The Resurrection Gauntlet
by thenyxie
Summary: Part 2 of "The Splintered Tomorrow Arc", Epic, Complete. Six years after Death of a Dream, the future remains bleak for mutants and humanity alike. Can the Master of Magnetism and his new team of mutants prevail? (GambitRogue)
1. TRG: Prologue

THE RESURRECTION GAUNTLET (written 1998-1999)  
  
Summary: Six years after the Shadow King has been defeated and the Brotherhood scattered, the future remains bleak for mutants and humanity alike. Sentinels and rogue factions of the Brotherhood remain, and Sinister rears his evil head amidst the chaos. Worst of all, the two children who may hold the key to the worlds salvation are in danger. Can even the Master of Magnetism prevail above it all as he leads a new team of mutants into the fray to pursue a forgotten dream? This story centers around Magneto, Gambit and Rogue, though many other X-Men and members of various other X-Teams share their moments in the spotlight.   
  
Continuity: This story takes place six years after The Death of a Dream ends.  
  
Author Note: This story is the second part of what was always meant to be a trilogy. The third installment of this arc will be written beginning sometime next spring, 2003.  
  
Disclaimer: All characters featured in this story belong to Marvel and are used without permission, EXCEPT: Lasher, Irinee', and Jean-Luc II. These characters were created by, and belong to, me. Any similarity to persons living, dead, imagined or otherwise is purely a result of your own paranoid mind :)  
  
  
PROLOGUE  
  
The lab was completely quiet, save for the faint hum of machinery in the background.   
  
_How misleading, the sounds of silence_, thought the scientist as he smiled serenely over his latest work.  
  
The room was dark except for the single tube which lay in the center, glowing a mellow white that almost obscured the occupant within. He had turned off every light on purpose in fact, leaving only the computer screens and indicator switches that were absolutely necessary in order to better view his latest masterpiece.  
  
She wasn't exquisitely lovely, he thought as his eyes traced the contours of her face, though there was certainly something alluring about the curve of her jaw, the jut of her chin. Too pale, perhaps, with her skin that had never seen the sun. It gave her a waxy sort of cast, he thought and then chuckled at the irony of the comparison. She was real enough, and her chest rose and fell with the rhythm of normal breathing, but she had been sculpted from raw material, molded, one might say, into the image that she now presented.   
  
"I always thought it a bit of a waste to see you go in such a passive way, my dear," he spoke to the unconscious body, almost affectionately. "I always thought you destined for better things. But now you serve a higher power with your new life, and a better goal. You will make a lovely pawn."   
  
His faint smile reappeared, and with the closest thing he ever felt to excitement, he pushed the button to open the tube. The hiss that broke the silence was almost startling in its loudness, the lid breaking free and falling aside. Tendrils of white mist lingered about her form for a moment more before dissolving away into nothingness, revealing her bare flesh and shocking her lungs with their first real drawing of air.  
  
Coughing and rasping with her first newborn breath, pale blue eyes flickered, then opened, regarding him with the shock all babies must feel when they are pushed out into the world kicking and screaming. Yes, the comfort of the womb was passed, he thought as he reached down to stroke her pale cheek with one cold finger.  
  
"Welcome to the world, my dear." And then, although it was an expression that would strike fear into the hearts of many, the man known as Nathaniel Essex smiled brightly, most pleased.  
  



	2. TRG Chapter 1: Discovery

CHAPTER 1: DISCOVERY  
  
Remy LeBeau loved his children. He had sat, watching, through all of Rogues streaming curses and hurled insults, with a kind of detached fascination that had never quite left him afterward, as they pushed their way into the world. Watching them grow, change, slowly becoming individuals of their own as they went...it all provided him with a feeling of intense pride, joy and love. He had never known anything could feel so good. To think, he, a street rat and a thief could actually take pride in the simple fact of having children and become a respectable father.   
  
_You gettin' soft, Remy_, he thought to himself and chuckled.   
  
With a smile that he seemed to wear far too often these days, he scooped up Irinee' as she ran past giggling, pulling her up into his lap. "What you doin', chere?" he asked, tweaking her nose just slightly. She was getting a bit too big to for his lap now, or at least, that's what his aching thigh muscles told him. At 6 years old, laps become a very short-lived way of being held.  
  
Irinee' giggled back in answer, tweaking his own nose in return before slipping off his lap and taking off down the hallway.  
  
Remy chuckled and shook his head, watching her brother Jean-Luc eagerly take up the chase behind her, wondering idly what the X-Men would think if they could see him now.  
  
Oddly enough, he found himself wishing that Bishop were still alive to see this. The thought sent a strange pang through him, sorrow mixed with curiosity and regret. He had barely known the big man, but in another life, in another time, he had raised him from boyhood, become the closest thing to a father that Bishop ever had. Had he been a good father, then? He didn't tend to think so from the way Bishop had spoken of the "Witness"; Remy's counterpart in Bishop's time. And today, he wondered if Bishop were here, would he share in Remy's pride? Or stand by as stoically as he always had throughout the years, with that slight, disapproving frown he always seemed to wear whenever he passed glances with him? He supposed he would never know. Mentally, he sighed and added that to the long list of things in this life that he would probably never know. He did know, at least, that he now wished he had gotten to know Bishop a lot better than he had.  
  
His thoughts cut themselves short, then, as Magnus stepped into the room. He felt himself stiffen involuntarily at the sight of the older man, at once on guard. The rift between them had never really seemed to heal after his consciousness had been restored, at least, not as far as Remy was concerned. He genuinely respected Magnus on a heroic level, but the attraction between the elder man and Rogue had always been a point of contention for him. He didn't really know how Magnus felt about that…and he supposed that that was part of the problem. Remy hated slipping into old habits, most of his old habits were not very conductive to…well, to much of anything. But still, for all that he broken past that with Rogue and even some of the other X-Men, he still found that when confronted by something or someone who made him uncomfortable, he dealt with it the best way he knew how slipping right back into his cocky façade. The barriers came up and shut tight. For that reason, and for simplicity's sake, Remy always tried to keep things brief between them…though that didn't mean that a little fun wasn't in order.  
  
Magnus cleared his throat belatedly, perhaps to make a point, perhaps just to gain his total attention, Remy wasn't certain. One corner of his mouth curled upward slightly, and he cocked one brow at the older man almost arrogantly, as if to give him permission to speak. Despite their differences, Remy's hatred for slipping back into this persona, and no matter how much Remy might mistrust the man with his wife, he enjoyed this little game between them, to an extent. Magnus had always had an air of arrogance about him, of self-assurance and control, the type of presence that made people stop what they were doing when he entered a room. Remy had never bowed before it, upping his own arrogant demeanor just a tad whenever the man was around. It was a pissing contest, perhaps, but it was mildly amusing, and he rather thought that Magnus secretly enjoyed it from time to time as well.  
  
Today was obviously not one of those times.  
  
Magnus' face, always intense in expression, seemed to darken even further as the cajun took on his cocky stance, but he chose not to comment as he spoke.  
  
"Do you know where Rogue might be, Gambit?"  
  
His voice was polite, but Remy could sense the urgency behind it, and his testosterone level quickly declined as he let his cocky demeanor slip a few notches.  
  
"She was in de training room a bit ago. Bobby's watchin' de kids right now, so she took some time to work out." He paused, watching Magnus' expression, frowning slightly. "Sometin' wrong?"  
  
"Perhaps." Magnus said, and if Remy didn't know better, he'd think the man was actually hesitating. "I think you and Rogue might be interested in seeing these test results." He motioned to the documents he held in one hand.  
  
The sudden neutrality of Magnus' tone snapped him fully to attention. "What test results?"  
  
"Your children's."  
  
*           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *             
  
Polaris wiped the blood from the corner of her mouth, gritting her teeth together in a manner that Wolverine would have applauded as a fair imitation of snarling, animal rage. Had she been slightly less coherent, she might have even growled at the approaching bulk of metal threateningly, but it hadn't hit her quite that hard. She didn't even take the time to curse herself for letting the huge robot get the drop on her with its blasts, instead launching herself directly at it with the speed of a bullet, wrapping her magnetic field around her so densely that she nearly resembled the very object whose velocity she imitated. She passed through its massive chest with an ease that would have frightened her once. Now, it just made her vicious smile twist that much more in bitter satisfaction. She slowed her motion as she passed through its back, pulling to a halt in mid-air and turning to watch as it squawked in its death throes. Her aim had been true; she had destroyed its main power source with her mimicked bullet, leaving behind a smoking hole the size of a bus in its chest.  
  
It fell with a resounding thud, the buildings around it shuddering dangerously with its impact against the street. Polaris cast the structures a wary glance, then nodded slightly to herself as they settled uneasily back into their foundations without toppling.  
  
She paused for a moment to admire her work, then headed back down toward the street and her actual objective for being there. When she had heard Cerebro's beeping alert going off in the Nerve Center, she hadn't stopped to bother Magneto, knowing he was in an important meeting with Rogue and Gambit. She had seen the power signature of an Alpha class mutant and noted that it seemed to be in trouble, pulled up the location, and taken off as quickly as she could. Luckily, the skirmish had been nearby to their base, or she never would have arrived in time. She hadn't even had time to check on the unconscious mutant, having to attack the Sentinel head on before it killed the unfortunate soul. Now, as she neared the mutant she had rescued, her curiosity was finally piqued.  
  
Touching down, the first thing she noticed was that the mutant was definitely female and dressed in normal clothing. She found that rather odd, considering that most mutants never left the safety of their homes without their uniforms these days; battles were too frequent to risk otherwise. That meant this girl was either incredibly stupid, untrained in her powers, or that she didn't belong to any team. Unusual, anyway you looked at it, she thought, musing.   
  
Her time in the war had taught her to be cautious if nothing else, and she prodded the girl gently with one foot, ready to bring her powers to bear at the slightest sign of a threat. But the girl simply lay there, and finally Polaris employed her power to turn the girl over so she could view her face.  
  
Long blond hair, the color of pale wheat and just as thick, turned with the girls body, long locks sliding over to obscure her features. Her body looked to be about that of an average 18 year-old, with no discernable mutations that Polaris could detect. Finally, she knelt beside the girl and drew her hair back from her face, powers held barely an instant away from reacting if the girl attacked.  
  
And then, Polaris forgot completely about her powers, her safety, even forgot, for a moment, to breathe as the girls face came into view. Lids held wide around her green irises, she simply stared for what seemed an eternity, her mind unable to comprehend what she was seeing.  
  
In that moment, she even forgot that she had lost her faith in the church as she whispered brokenly in astonishment. "My God…"  
  
*           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *  
  
In what serviced as their meeting room, Rogue sat tensely on the edge of her seat, Gambit standing beside her, one hand placed comfortingly on her shoulder. Although truth to tell, he didn't look very comforted himself at the moment, Magnus noted. He bit back a sigh and inwardly chuckled bitterly at the thought that he, the once famed worldwide mutant terrorist, now cringed at the thought of being the bearer of bad news. Charles probably would have gotten a good laugh out of that. But the thought of Charles sobered him immediately, driving away even any dark humor he might have held. How he wished that his old friend were here now. If anyone would know what to do, it would be Charles.  
  
But Charles wasn't here, would never be here again, and Magnus had to face this on his own the best he could. Resigning himself to the unpleasant task at hand, he took a seat across the table from Rogue.  
  
"First of all," he began, "let me say that it is not as bad as you probably fear. There may be a solution." He watched with satisfaction as both of their postures relaxed slightly. They were still tense, but not terrified, and that would make this a bit easier. Feeling a bit less tense himself, he continued. "We already know that both of your children possess the mutant ability of telepathy, strong enough to disperse as powerful presence as the Shadow King, though to what upper extent we have not previously been certain. Recently, as you both know, I have been trying to improve on our technology, trying to make our base here more efficient. I have been able to extend Cerebro's capabilities beyond what they previously were, giving a better reading of not just a mutants location, but powers and power levels before ever confronting them." He paused and glanced at both of them, taking a moment to let that sink in.  
  
Remy simply nodded and squeezed Rogue's shoulder, indicating for him to continue.  
  
He laced his fingers before him on the table and continued a bit more carefully. This was where the ground started to drop out from under his feet. "Cerebro indicates enormous levels of potential power in both of your children. The telepathy alone stands to overshadow even Xavier, himself."  
  
Rogue turned a slightly lighter shade of pale, and Remy unconsciously squeezed her shoulder a bit tighter. Both began to speak at once.  
  
"Telepathy ALONE? What else--"  
  
"Overshadow Xavier?"  
  
He put up his hands in a calming, quieting gesture, and both of them fell silent. "Yes, they have the potential to far outstrip Xavier in telepathic power. And yes, they have other potential abilities as well. Though what those other abilities might be, Cerebro is uncertain, beyond that they seem energy based."  
  
Magnus already felt himself growing weary of this conversation as he watched their expressions change to incorporate both fear and shock. And that wasn't even all he had to tell them. He lifted one hand to rub the bridge of his nose, feeling a slight headache beginning to grow there. He hadn't imagined that this part of the news would bring so much stress. It was the next that would surely have them horrified.  
  
"There is more," he went on, wanting to draw this to a close. "There is a problem."  
  
"No kidding," Rogue snorted.  
  
"Although your children's powers have remained latent since the incident with the Shadow King, they will almost certainly manifest completely at puberty. In fact, I'm uncertain as to why they were not born with them. My only theory is that perhaps they burned themselves out for a while with the effort it took to remove the Shadow Kings presence."  
  
"The problem?" Remy interrupted his theorizing.  
  
"The problem is, that when your children's powers do manifest, whenever that might be, they will literally have so much power spilling from their heads that they won't be able to contain it. You remember Jean Grey?"  
  
They both nodded, looking ashen at his prediction, still too numb to let the repercussions of his statement register.  
  
"When she first came to Xavier, it was because she could not control her telepathic abilities. She did not know how to screen out other peoples thoughts and it almost drove her insane. Xavier placed several mental blocks on her power, to keep it under control until she could learn how to use it to its full potential. It was the only thing that saved her mind." He stopped speaking and looked at them both gravely, hoping they would not need him to elaborate any further.  
  
They didn't.  
  
It was Remy who spoke first. "So…you mean dat unless someone can block de childrens powers when dey kick in…dey going to end up brain dead." It wasn't a question.  
  
"Or worse," Magnus agreed, his voice tight.  
  
Rogue reached up and gripped Remy's hand tightly, her fingers trembling as badly as her voice when next she spoke. "And there are no telepath's left to help them…" her voice was a bare whisper.  
  
This time, Magnus only nodded.  
  
*           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *  
  
Remy held close to Rogue in the darkness, the regularity of her breathing telling him that she had finally fallen asleep. The children were tucked safely into their beds, and the entire house—_if you could really call this base a house_, he thought—was silent. Everyone all snuggled down tight as could be, nothing stirring, not even a mouse. The line passed unbidden through his head and he dismissed it quickly. There was no time for idle thinking right now.  
  
He, Rogue and Magnus had spent the afternoon racking their brains, trying to come up with some alternative for Irinee' and Jean-Luc's ultimate problem, and had come away empty-handed. After a time, Remy had given up completely, letting their voices fade into the background even as a terrible thought began to take hold of him.  
  
Rogue and Magnus seemed convinced that there was no one left who could help them…but they were wrong about that. There was one person Remy knew of, but he didn't even want to think about that.  
  
_I already sold my soul to him once…was lucky I got it back dat time. Won't be so lucky, twice. You'd best be thinkin' bout sometin' else, LeBeau_, he chided himself.  
  
He shivered in the darkness, despite the blankets that covered him, and tried to push the thought to the back of his mind. But even as he fell into fitful sleep, visions of Sinister's face danced before him like the Serpent surely did before Eve.  
  



	3. TRG Chapter 2: The Enemy Of My Enemy

CHAPTER 2: THE ENEMY OF MY ENEMY…  
  
Magnus poured a cup of coffee and sat down at the kitchen table, proceeding to stare at his steaming cup with rapt attention. Throughout the years, he had been many things...prisoner, father, husband, lover, villain, hero...his whole life had seemed nothing but constant change when he looked back on it. Still, throughout the span of his years, there was one thing that had never changed, the mantra that he had held sacred to his soul To protect and save all mutants.  
  
Certainly, there had been a time when he was not fully in control of himself, and he grimaced at the memory of Logan, adamantium seeping agonizingly through his pores, lying before him. But he had been insane then, saved from breaking his vow only by someone daring to do the unthinkable. It was still hard for him to imagine the desperation that must have moved Charles to mentally lobotomize him, how reprehensible it must have been to everything he believed and taught throughout his life. But he had made the hard choice, and probably made the better one. Magnus would have liked to have thanked him for saving the world from himself personally, if he could. But that time was long past.   
  
He was at last a whole man again, through the efforts of the evil Shadow King of all people. When the Shadow King had taken over his catatonic body, he had been all but useless, an empty, mindless husk. But then, when the Shadow King had also absorbed Joseph, he had slowly begun to become more cohesive. Their two minds, though not exactly the same, met and merged on some unconscious level, restoring Magnus to full mentality once again. Still, he had been trapped, a prisoner inside his own body until Rogue had forcibly removed the entity from his vessel by force of her powers.  
  
He had to admire her bravery, for that, and owed her his thanks as well, he supposed. He still wasn't sure if he would have regained dominance over his body after the Shadow Kings removal had Rogue not shoved Psylocke's psychic knife into his mind. It had seemed to snap something back into place for him, a level of awareness he had too long been denied. Finally in control of his own mind and body after three long years, he had awakened to find the world much changed from when he left it. The Shadow King had reigned almost supreme over the world, having tainted and twisted some of the worlds most powerful super-beings under his control. Having killed most of the X-Men who could challenge him, he had set humanity fighting against itself and mutant alike while he built the Brotherhood of Evil Mutants rapidly into a worldwide army.  
  
That had been a little over 6 years ago, and again, much had changed. Only this time, the man known as Magneto fought for the side for free will rather than for world domination.  
  
When he had first…reawakened, he had set out from the X-Men with Gambit, Rogue and Iceman, determined to build a new team to help mop up the mess the Shadow King had left behind. The painful memories of all his attacks against the X-Men over the years would not allow him to stay with them, but he more than meant to help right the world he had so unwillingly helped destroy. Once he had believed in the domination of mutant over human, but to actually see it…and to see the mutants who dared fight against it so beaten down themselves, had been almost more than he could stand. It was so reminiscent of Auschwitz and the horrible tragedies there. He wondered sometimes if it were the Joseph part of him that had changed his views so, but he liked to think that it was something that had always been part of him.  
  
And so, he had built a new dream from the ashes of Xaviers. Not as perfect in its vision, perhaps, and certainly not achieved through the same passive means. Xavier would probably have seen it as a reversion of Magneto to his old ways…but then, Xavier was dead. And that was rather the point, wasn't it? The dream he had worked for had proved to be an impossibility through the means he chose, as Magnus had long tried to tell him. In some cases, the closed fist carried much farther than the open hand ever would. Perhaps Charles would not have agreed with his methods, but he could not deny the results. The world had become a much better place since the riddance of the Shadow King, and humans were slowly reclaiming their place in the world with the help of sympathetic mutants. And it was all because the mutants had decided that the time to be gentle and forgiving with their enemies had long passed.  
  
Even Magnus, who valued mutant life above all others could not deny that there were some who would bring more harm than help to the world, and it had been a hard decision for him to kill any and all homo-superior who stood in his way. But it was for the greater good, he had eventually convinced himself, and he had never swayed from the path once he set his foot upon it. The thrice damned Sebastian Shaw, who had seen fit to unleash the Sentinels against mutant and humanity alike, had been his first kill, and he had never regretted it. In fact, he could hardly wait to see that bastard in hell, where he could torment him even further. A bitter smile crossed his face at the thought, and his eyes grew a shade darker, though there was no one there to see. Some things, it seemed, never changed.  
  
His thoughts drew themselves to the present, rather reluctantly it seemed, and he could hardly repress the bitterness that now welled within his chest. He was an Omega class mutant, with the ability to rip the earth asunder at its very core if he so chose…and yet he was helpless against the plight of two young mutants who might hold the very fate of that same said earth in their hands. He had sworn once to protect all mutants, and later had been forced to redefine that proclamation. But then, war tended to force distasteful decisions upon a person. Now he vowed to save those who could in turn help save the world….and at this very moment, he found he could not even do that.  
  
He slammed his fist against the table top in frustration, causing his still full coffee cup to jump and splash dark liquid across the white tablecloth in a haphazard pattern. Setting his jaw, he stared at the pattern for a long, silent moment, his mind turning the problem over and over. He WOULD help those children, somehow. There had to be a way, and if it took every resource he had, he would make certain that they would go on to live full lives. Omega class telepaths, both of them. He mulled that over for a time, thinking rather ironically how much nature abhorred a vacuum. The world had been stripped of all telepaths, prior to their birth, and there, as if in answer to the prayers of thousands, had been born two of the most powerful psi's the world had ever seen. They were too important not to be saved, he decided reaching for his now cold coffee and beginning to rise from his chair.  
  
It was then that the doorbell rang.  
   
*           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *             
  
Remy stuck his head out of their bedroom, a look of almost comical surprise on his face as the resounding chime of what sounded like a doorbell faded away. He hadn't known they had a doorbell…or even a front door for that matter….but he supposed it warranted checking out. With a regretful sigh, he slipped back into his pants, thoughts of an afternoon nap fading quickly.  
  
*           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *  
  
Magnus stood before the main entrance to the base, seemingly bemused as a small, not quite happy smile played about his lips. When he had the doorbell installed, it had been at the suggestion of Iceman, and meant mostly as a joke. He had agreed with the younger mutants assessment that the day one of their enemies actually rang the doorbell instead of just busting a hole in the side of the building, would be the day that the team could retire. Now, his finger hovering over the button that would slide open the door to the outside, he wondered if retirement might be only a moment away. Certainly, he could simply check the surveillance camera and end his curiosity right there, but it had been a long time since anything had surprised the self-styled Master of Magnetism. Besides, there was little he could not handle. With something like a chuckle, he pressed the button and prepared himself for anything.   
  
He wasn't ready.  
  
*           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *  
  
It took Remy several minutes to figure out that the chime he had heard must have come from the bases main entry, though he was doubting his sanity now that the sound had faded away. A doorbell? Here? It was ludicrous. Still, he rounded the corner, trying to prepare himself for anything as he kept close to the wall, red eyes glowing as he focused on the doorway not far beyond.  
  
He wasn't ready, either.  
  
*           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *  
  
Emerald green eyes gleamed at Magnus, almost cat-like in their expression. A small smirk curled on corner of her mouth as she stood, looking extremely satisfied at his moment of complete and utter shock.  
  
"Surprised to see me, Magneto?"  
  
"Jean?" he asked, almost disbelieving, his mind already recovering from its initial shock he worked to put this all into a logical context. Unfortunately, he was failing.  
  
"Guess again," she said, smiling her Cheshire cat grin, leaning against the doorway almost casually.  
  
"Madelyne," he said, with more conviction this time. He heard a movement behind him, a rapid intake of breath, and didn't need to turn to know Remy stood behind him.  
  
"Gold star for you, old man," she said with a sultry chuckle, strolling casually past him inside the base.  
  
Or at least, she tried to.  
  
Magnus was in front of her in an instant, his grey-blue eyes hardening into steel. But it was Remy who pushed in front of him and spoke first. 

"I t'ink not, chere. Go away. You dead." He began to forcibly push her back out the door.  
  
Magnus laid a staying hand upon his arm, and after a quick, questioning glance, Remy backed up. But just a step. "What do you want here, Madelyne?" Magnus asked, his eyes seeming to bore into her. "And be quick about it or I shall throw you into orbit around the sun."  
  
She chuckled again, seemingly amused by the whole situation. "Such a warm welcome for a lady. You make me feel right at home."  
  
"You are not deserving of the title 'Lady'," Magnus spoke again, his voice sounding like stone. "Your point."  
  
Madelyne regarded him interestedly, remaining silent for a moment longer, then shrugged. "I want to join up. Where do I sign on?"  
  
Remy glanced at Magnus again, and was horrified to see that he was considering her words.  
  
"Why?" Magnus asked finally, the intensity of his gaze not fading.  
  
"Because there's no safer place to hide from Sinister."  
  
Magnus remained silent, seeming to consider her answer, then nodded once, slightly. "Very well. Let us go outside and discuss this further."  
  
Remy stared at him in shock. "You can't be serious?"  
  
Magnus leveled his gaze on him, and suddenly Remy felt like a bug pinned to glass. "Have you ever known me to joke?"  
  
Remy stood open-mouthed, watching as the two of them walked out into the midday sun, shutting the door in his face behind them.  
  
*           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *  
  
Iceman, aka, Bobby Drake was smiling broadly as Kitty's face appeared on the com screen.  
  
"How's things in the Big Apple, Kitty?"  
  
She smiled back, though she seemed rather distracted and nodded. "Things are going pretty well here. The Sentinel clean-up is moving along as scheduled."  
  
"Then to what do I owe the pleasure of this call, my dear?"  
  
Kitty frowned slightly, looking troubled. "I…I'm not sure. Is everything okay there?" she asked, squinting as if to scrutinize his answer.  
  
Bobby nodded and studied her in return. "Good as can be expected. Why? What's up?"  
  
"I…don't know, really. I just sort of…sensed something," she finished lamely.  
  
"A disturbance in the Force?" he asked with mock sincerity, smile widening into a grin.  
  
Her face wrinkled into a disapproving grin, and she shook her head. "Something like that, yes. I just thought I felt something…familiar. Something I haven't felt for a long time."  
  
He chuckled as she continued to make more Star Wars quotes, unconsciously. "Obi Wan Kenobi, perhaps?" He knew if she could have, she'd have thrown something at him then.  
  
Instead, she sighed, seeming to reflect for a moment, then shook her head again. "I don't know. I just felt the need to check in, make sure everything was kosher. I just have this strange feeling…."  
  
"You sure that's not Colossus you're feeling?" he asked with a mischievous grin.  
  
And this time she did throw something at the screen. Bobby ducked despite knowing that there was no way she could hit him, and laughed aloud. Kitty laughed, too, her tension finally appearing to ease.  
  
"You wanna talk to Daz, now?" she asked, reassured that everything was all right with them, at least for the moment.  
  
Bobby nodded eagerly and pulled his chair closer to the screen in anticipation, then was suddenly distracted by a movement from the doorway. Turning, he saw Polaris enter. That in and of itself was not unusual. What WAS unusual was the dried blood on her uniform and the haunted look in her eyes. Hardly turning back to the screen, he murmured, "Kitty…I'll call you back." He slapped one hand down on the com, cutting off the link and rising to his feet.  
  
"Lorna? You okay?" he asked, peering at her in concern.  
  
In response, Polaris merely shook her head and stepped aside, allowing the person behind her to step inside the doorway.  
  
Once his initial shock receded just a bit, his first action was to think that he was that he was going to have to call Kitty back a lot sooner than he had thought. Then he picked his jaw up off the floor.  
  



	4. TRG Chapter 3: From the Grave

CHAPTER 3: FROM THE GRAVE  
  
Sinister sat, tapping his fingers thoughtfully over the lab tabletop, one hand folded beneath his chin as he stared intently at the small package lying several feet from his drumming hand. It was harmless looking enough; a small, plain package in a brown wrapper, no address given or posted, not even stamped. And that was what troubled him. It wasn't as if many people knew of this lab in the first place, and the postal system hadn't run in a good eight years with any sort of efficiency. Which meant, that someone not only knew where he was, but had deigned to drop  
the package off by hand. The thought made him about as close to uncomfortable as he ever got.  
  
But then again, he was Sinister, and few would dare to oppose him. Even fewer could actually hurt him. Still, it never hurt to be cautious.  
  
His fingers fell silent and he rose from the table, cape swirling imperiously about his incredibly tall body, considering the package for a moment more before finally grasping it in his long, pale fingers. It wasn't likely to be a bomb. If someone had truly wanted him out of the picture there were a number of different ways they could have tried to take him out. No, this was a message from someone who wanted to get an insidious point across.  
  
As if Sinister were afraid of anyone, he thought and chuckled under his breath. The only person who could truly harm him had been killed by a teammate, long ago. And he would never create another Scott Summers. No matter how intriguing the man's DNA.  
  
His mental armor back in place, he tore the wrapper from the package, curiosity piqued even more when he saw the sealed metal box with its biohazard symbol glaring brightly. Samples perhaps? Using his considerable strength, he pried the lid from the box and set it aside.  
  
The inside of the box was filled with a honeycomb of circles, made specifically to hold test vials in place during transit. Sinister's luminous red eyes roved curiously over each of the empty holes before finally coming to rest on the one that was actually filled with something.  
  
He slipped the vial from its slot and held it up to the light, his face now impassive as his scientific nature took over. It was a tissue sample, as best he could tell, stored in some sort of clear, preserving fluid.  
  
His interest piqued, he moved toward one of the lab tables and uncorked the vial, pouring the entire contents into a small, clear tray. Not even bothering to don his gloves, he took a pair of tweezers and reached carefully into the fluid with their tips, extracting the tissue sample from it. Laying it gently on one of his microscope slides, he set the tweezers aside and took the tiny piece of plexi-glass between his thumb and index finger, barely pausing to look at as he carried it to the machine that was one of his master inventions.  
  
Standing before a giant monitor, he placed the slide into a waiting case, watching as it slid quietly, perfectly, back inside the machine. Folding his arms across his chest, he waited patiently while the machine analyzed the DNA encoded within the sample, knowing that if it were of any worth to him, he probably already had it catalogued in the machines database. A moment later, he was rewarded as an image began to take form on the screen, the machine confirming the identity of a previously catalogued mutant, blurry and nondescript at first, then quickly focusing as the machine completed its job. A display panel on the machine's base flashed one word in bright green letters DELETED. Leaning forward to peer at the image intently as it formed, he was almost startled as it snapped into sudden clarity.   
  
And staring at that face on the screen, for the first time in longer than he could remember, Sinister felt a tiny icicle of fear wedge its way into his black heart.  
  
*           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *  
  
"Speak quickly, Madelyne," Magnus prompted as they walked through the red, dry deserts of the Arizona wilderness outside of the base.  
  
"Or what?" she asked with a smirk, hearing the unspoken threat in his voice.  
  
"You are trying my patience," he replied in a quiet, dangerous tone, halting his step. He turned to look at her directly, grey-blue eyes set hard as stone. "I thought that after killing Sebastian Shaw, I had seen the last of the Hellfire Club."  
  
Her green eyes widened slightly in surprise. "Shaw is dead?"  
  
He stared at her impassively in answer, storm-cloud colored eyes never flickering.  
  
"I see…," she said slowly, taking in the news. "Well, no matter," she shrugged it off lightly, her voice affecting a casual tone. "I had no plans to return to him, at any rate."  
  
"And what are your plans, now, Madelyne? You should not even be alive, much less here."  
  
She laughed with cynical humor, turning her face slightly away from him toward the setting sun. The red tint of the fading daylight made the desert glow a bright crimson, as if it were covered in blood, the long shadows of cactus' stretching out like twisted fingers across the bloodied ground. So much like her past, she thought, filled with blood and dark shadows, reaching out to claim her, always. Sinister, N'astirh, Nathan….without any of them, she would have never existed at all. How she hated them for it.  
  
"People with my genetic structure have a history of refusal to stay dead," she replied, one corner of her mouth turning up in a bitter smile. The focus of her hatred had ever been Jean Grey, the woman she had been cloned of and carbon copied after. But it seemed that finally, this time, Jean was truly dead. It had been eight years since her death, and there had been no sign of her. Madelynes only regret was that she had not killed the woman herself. "Understand, Magnus. I am here because my objective is to destroy the one who created me so long ago. My entire life has been nothing but a farce, a parody of the late Jean Grey. I would not even exist were it not for Sinister. My best chance to destroy him is with your group, especially since he seems to have such an interest in all things X-Men." She frowned, brows drawing together tensely in the ebbing light. "That…and I am tired of running. Tired of constantly fighting for my life or hiding amongst the remnants of humanity. I need allies, if I hope to survive in this world, and the Brotherhood is far too disorganized right now to provide a suitable alternative.  
  
"You seem to forget, Madelyne, that not only have you proved yourself as dangerous as Sinister time and time again, but also that I stood by Sinisters side in defeating Sebastian Shaw and his rogue Sentinels. Or perhaps, you simply did not know…?" his voice trailed off thoughtfully, almost suggestively. "Where have you been all these years since the telepaths were destroyed, Madelyne? Why did you not show yourself before?"  
  
"It matters not how or why, Magnus," she replied, meeting the challenge in his eyes without flinching, "but that I am here asking for a chance to help you fight against the forces that threaten the world. In return, when the time comes- and it will- you will all stand by my side and see Sinister fall."  
  
Magnus frowned, the lines in his face barely changing position to find his most favored expression, seeming to consider her words. Indeed, it did not matter why she was here, or how, it mattered more that she was offering her services to their battle. He didn't trust her, oh no, not in a million years would he ever trust this conniving, manipulating woman whose face mirrored one of the most honorable mutants that had ever lived, and whose heart mocked that same womans beliefs. No, he would never trust her. But was trust the only issue to be considered, here? Even if Sinister had created her and sent her to them like a Trojan horse, it mattered little so long as he was aware of the threat. He had no doubt that he could crush her in an instant, despite her formidable power, should she turn on them. But was it worth the trouble it would surely bring? Did it matter? He had made shady alliances many times in his past during times of trouble, most notably when he aligned himself with the Hellfire Club while co-leading the X-Men. Things were more desperate now than they had ever been…could he truly afford to turn away any help offered to his cause?   
  
Madelyne remained silent, her profile barely visible to him in the waning light as he watched her, searching for any sign of treachery, triumph, any emotion etched into her features that might betray her feelings. But if there were any emotion there, there was only one he could discern, one he, himself, was far too familiar with. Loneliness. Another mask, perhaps, but it spoke volumes to him. If she were indeed sincere, which he could not bring himself to believe despite her actions, would it be any different than when he had finally succumbed to the "lighter" side? Where would he be today, if not for the belief and support of the X-Men? Their willingness to give him a chance and build their trust in him? He supposed they had not felt much less dubious when he took over as headmaster of the school, but they had at least given him the chance to prove himself. Could he do any less?  
  
Besides, he thought, her telepathy could be very useful in solving the twins problem, eventually. He could ill-afford to trust her with any sort of information like that right now, but if she proved herself reliable and devoted to their cause, she might be the answer they had searched for. It seemed odd that such an obvious answer should be thrust into his lap at such a time of despair, but could he, in good conscience, throw such an opportunity away without exploring it first?  
  
"Well, Magnus," her voice cut into his thoughts as she turned back toward him. "What is it to be?"  
  
*           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *  
  
Theresa Cassidy rubbed a tired hand across her chin, the monitor seeming to blur before her eyes as she watched. Blinking heavily, the blue screen returned to focus, showing the still empty grounds surrounding Alpha Flight's base. Empty was boring, she thought, but empty was also good. That meant yet another day without being attacked on their home ground.   
  
With a yawn, she ground one hand against her bleary eyes, taking a glance at her wristwatch before looking back the to the screen. Rahne should be here any minute to take watch, then she could get some much needed sleep.  
  
It had been a rough couple of weeks since Magneto had somehow convinced her to take up the job of reforming Alpha Flight. She had managed to round up a few members of the former team; Persuasion, Sasquatch, Puck and Northstar, and rounded the team out with herself and Rahne. Six was not many in this day and age, but she supposed it was a good start.   
  
They had done nothing but train in the weeks following, trying to bring the individuals together as a workable team, and it seemed to be going well. Magneto had insisted that Canada needed to gather together its mutants in order to help take back the land that was rightfully theirs. Siryn wasn't Canadian, but it had been a long time since she had something to believe in, and she desperately needed something to do besides dwell on the past. She had let sorrow and chaos claim her for too many years.  
  
Her father had been years in his grave, but there wasn't a day that went by that she didn't think about him, regret the time she had let slip by without seeing him. Warpath had followed him, scant months later, and even Deadpool had disappeared during the chaos of the Psi-War. Almost everyone who had ever mattered to her was gone, she had nothing left to believe in. Mutants and heroes died all around her, the Shadow King becoming more and more powerful with each passing day, and she had let the darkness of sorrow claim her after a time, seeing no reason to continue fighting. She had started drinking again, heavily, losing herself in the refugee camps of humans, passing herself off as one of them. There had been many mornings when she awoke with no sense of who she was, or of her past, and on some level, that had made her happy. The alcohol had kept it all at a distance, made it all seem unreal, somehow.  
   
Then the Shadow King had been defeated, and Magnus had come, offering promises of a better world, much as Xavier had done years before him, had taken her in, gotten her off the bottle and back on her feet. She had stayed with his faction of the X-Men for several years, training, learning, getting herself back together, and finally had proved herself a worthy teammate. More than worthy, she supposed, since he had sent her out here to start another team. With time, Magnus had seemed like less and less of a leader to her, and more and more of a father figure. He had been there for her at every turn, guiding her back toward the life she had given up…giving her something to believe in, to live for, again.  
   
It hadn't been easy to leave them, to start off on her own again. At times, she still thought of herself as the helpless drunk she had lived as for so many years. She hadn't been sure she was up to the task of leading this new group, but she had to admit she was proud of the way things were turning out. A few more months and they would be ready to go out into the world and start cleaning up Canada. Granted, the task was much easier here than it was in America. The wilds of Canada had not been as grossly affected as their neighboring country, but there was still much damage to be healed. Yes, the new Alpha Flight was certainly destined for great things, she thought with a smile.  
  
Lost in her thoughts, she failed to notice as six, light blue dots crept onto her monitor.  
  
Then, everything seemed to explode.  
  
*           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *             
  
Kitty sat, staring at the communications console almost angrily. It had been a good hour since Bobby had cut off their conversation earlier, and she was beginning to worry terribly about what may have happened to him. That, added to the nagging feeling she'd had lately, did not bode well for her thoughts. It was a tickling in the back of her mind, really, a strange sense that…something had changed. It almost seemed familiar somehow, as if she had experienced it before, a long time ago. If she could only concentrate long enough to figure out when…  
  
She started as the comm beeped to life, announcing an incoming call and breaking off her train of thought. Quickly, she depressed the button that would transmit the call and watched as Bobby's face coalesced into being from the dots of static.   
  
She could tell immediately that something was wrong. His face held none of its usual good humor and his eyes looked almost haunted. The admonition she had been about to deliver to him for worrying her so died in her throat. "What is it?" she asked urgently, forgoing the usual greeting.  
  
"I need you and Colossus to get out here immediately, Kitty," he said severely.  
  
"What? Why?" she asked, beginning to get annoyed with all the tension. "We can't just up and leave—"  
  
"Listen to me, Kitty," he said, quietly, gravely.  
  
And she did, brown eyes growing wider and more horrified with each sentence.  
  
*           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *             
  
"Katya!" Piotr called urgently as he descended into the communications hub. "Katya, where are you? What is it?"  
  
Switching to the armored form of Colossus, the young mutant raced down the hall, searching desperately for Kitty. He hadn't sensed that she was threatened when she had contacted him, but she had sounded very upset before telling him to get down here and cutting the call short.  
  
As it was, he almost ran into her as she appeared around the corner of the hall. Nearly stumbling and falling on her anyway, he switched to his human form once again as he regained his balance, staring at her in silence as he watched the tears course down her cheeks. "Katya…what is it?" he asked softly, wrapping his arms around her.  
  
"A miracle," she replied in a broken whisper. "Oh, Piotr…" she pulled back to look at him with wide, brown eyes. "Illyana…it…she…she's alive."  
  



	5. TRG Chapter 4: Into The Fire

CHAPTER 4: INTO THE FIRE  
  
For the second time that day, Magnus was surprised.  
  
He had hardly re-entered the complex, Madelyne at his side, when Bobby Drake and Lorna Dane has had descended on him with astounding news.  
  
"Illyana's alive?" he asked in disbelief. "Here?"  
  
"I found her in Phoenix, about to get crushed by a Sentinel," Lorna supplied. "She had already taken one blast from it when I found her, but she seems to be recovering nicely in the med-lab."  
  
"But how?" he asked, trying to assimilate the information, make it more real in his mind. Illyana had been one of the New Mutants while he was headmaster at Xavier's Institute, perhaps the only New Mutant with which he'd had anything in common. Her constant struggle against the darker side of her soul had formed something of a bond between them, since he had often fought the same war with himself. And Illyana, like he, in the end, had given all that was best and brightest in her soul to save the world. The only difference was that it had cost her all of her power and regressed her to the form of a child again. Not more than a year later, she had died, another victim of the Legacy Virus. That he knew, for he cringed deep inside at the memory of defiling her funeral with battle. That one event had set so many others in motion…the least of which was not that her older brother, Colossus, had lost his faith in Xavier's dream and had joined Magneto's own Acolytes.  
  
"We do not know, Magnus," Lorna's voice interrupted his musings. "She has only just become conscious. We thought you might wish to speak with her first, since of all of us, you know her best."  
  
He nodded, and without a further word moved down the hall toward the med-lab, leaving Lorna and Bobby to gape at the red-headed woman who had stood silent, unnoticed, behind him all this time.  
  
"Hello," Madelyne purred teasingly. "Miss me?"  
  
*           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *  
  
Magnus entered the med-lab and caught his breath. It was, indeed, Illyana Rasputin. There was no mistaking her. He paused a moment, simply staring at her as her eyes lifted to meet his.  
  
She was a little older than he remembered her, perhaps 18, but her face still glowed with the freshness of youth despite the fact that she was still pale from her ordeal. She looked in almost perfect health, unchanged since last he had seen save for a physical feature or two. The honey blond hair fell further down her back now, and she stood fully at about 5'7. But it was her eyes that he remembered more than anything else, those eyes that had held far too much wisdom and burden for one so young. Those, too, remained the same.  
  
They stood in silence, staring at each other for a moment longer. What could he say to her? Magnus wondered. After all this time…  
  
And then he saw the sadness, the confusion in her eyes, and he knew.  
  
"Welcome home, Illyana."  
  
*           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *  
  
Siryn groaned and sat up, holding one hand to the side of her head. She didn't know what had just happened, except that the world had seemed to explode in flames all around her. In fact, the flames were still burning, she realized as she pulled herself to her feet in the decimated control center. That could only mean they were under attack.   
  
She stopped, forcing herself to calm against the tide of panic that threatened to claim her, listening intently for any sound of battle. Whether the crackling of the flames impaired her hearing, or there was nothing to be heard, she could not tell, but only silence met her ears above the burning. _But where are Rahne and the others?_ she wondered frantically. She didn't know how long she had been unconscious, but it seemed they should have been launching some kind of counter-attack against their unknown foes by now.  
  
She didn't want to think about why they might not be able to.  
  
Wiping the blood and sweat from her eyes, she ignored the dull throb in her temple as she moved to the communications comm, praying that it was still intact enough to make one last call—and then the world turned upside down.  
  
She felt as though she were being twisted inside out, falling, her stomach lurching in protest to the sensations that seemed to spin her body and perceptions out of control. Sagging against the console, she heard the tinkling sound of female laughter, as if from very far away as she fought to control her body.  
  
"Got her, Scalphunter," that same, light, female voice spoke aloud.  
  
And then Siryn knew who she faced, knew why the rest of her team was conspicuously absent. Gritting her teeth, she used all of her will to focus on the comm panel. Her fingers felt thick and clumsy, barely responding to her commands, but she couldn't let that stop her, not when so many lives depended on her. The code burned brightly in her brain, a distant voice yammering at her, urging her to hurry even as her fingers moved sluggishly over the number pad.   
  
"Good work, Vertigo," came a man's voice, thick and sinister through the fog in Siryn's brain, and then she knew she was done for.  
  
A spray of bullets erupted into the otherwise silent night.  
  
*           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *  
  
In the back of her feral mind, Rahne knew she was hurt badly. She could smell the singed fur of her shoulder, the slowly drying blood that still flowed from the wound. But more overpowering was the taste and scent of the blood in her mouth from the man who had hit her with the energy harpoon. There was little but shreds left of him, now, and still her bloodlust was not sated.  
  
Crouching down on all fours in her hybrid wolf form, she watched from the shadows as Vertigo laughed merrily at Siryn's predicament. She wanted to leap at the weak woman, tear her throat out while she still laughed, watch as the light slowly left her eyes. But she dared not do that, yet. The man was the greater threat, and she would have to deal with him first.  
  
She waited until they stood close together, almost too close, and watched with her golden eyes as the man lifted his weapon against her friend and leader. She crouched lower, powerful muscles coiling tightly with strength yearning to be released, her sharp teeth bared as her muzzle drew back in a snarl, and leaped with all her might.  
  
*           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *  
  
It happened so fast, Siryn was barely able to follow it in her sluggish state. She had begun to turn toward Scalphunter, at least wanting to face her attacker face to face before she died—and then suddenly, the room erupted in snarling fury and fur.  
  
*           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *  
  
With incredible control, Rahne landed on Scalphunter's back, teeth firmly embedded in his neck even as she kicked out to the side with her powerful back feet, sending Vertigo flying across the room. She wasted not a second on triumph though, ignoring the cries of pain from the man beneath her as she sank her teeth deeper, feeling for the bone beneath the muscle. Finding it, she ripped and twisted with one powerful motion of her jaws, not so much severing his head as tearing it from his shoulders. Grunting in satisfaction, she spat out the head and watched as the body fell, twitched once and went still.   
  
She had accomplished her goal; the round of fire intended for Siryn had gone wide when Rahne hit him, lodging uselessly in the ceiling. With one look at her teammate to be sure she was alright, the wolf-woman turned her vicious attention toward Vertigo, who lay unmoving against the far wall of the control center.  
  
It was then that Siryn recovered her senses and the nausea subsided. Even as she hurriedly turned back to the console and punched in the code, she heard footsteps thundering down the hall outside. That could only mean the rest, and biggest, of the Marauders had arrived.  
  
*           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *             
  
Magnus had barely had time to more than greet Illyana when the distress call came through. Patched into the main speaker system through a special code, fuzzy and static filled though they were, the few broken words were enough to freeze everyone in the complex where they stood, their expressions horrified.  
  
"…..Marauders….team…..under attack…..help….."  
  
The moment the communication cut out, he was in action. Moving to the speaker panel, he slammed one hand on the talk button, speaking with as much urgency as he ever showed. "Rogue, get a fix on that signal, now!" He was already certain, in the pit of his stomach where his hope began to sink, that he knew where the signal was coming from. He knew that voice, but he hoped…Rogue's next words confirmed his worst fears.  
  
"Already on it Magnus." He could hear the hesitation in her voice, and felt his stomach twist painfully. "It's comin' from Alpha Flight's base."  
  
*           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *  
  
"Damn!" Magnus thundered as he slammed a fist into the wall in a rare display of temper, his blue-grey eyes sparking with helpless anger. "We'll never reach them in time," he muttered sorrowfully to himself as the anger seemed to drain from him suddenly, leaving him tired and hopeless. The rest of the X-Men were silent as they poured into the hangar, ready to depart for Canada.  
  
From the back of the group, Illyana stepped forth, seeming sure of herself for the first time since he had seen her. With something like a smile, she touched her stomach and drew forth a sword of shimmering light from it, holding the weapon up before her eyes as if appraising it. The Soulsword, Magnus realized, the totality of Illyana's magical power and might. 

"Oh, yes, we will," she contradicted him.  
  
Magnus didn't even have a chance to respond before they were all gone in a flash of light.  
  
*           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *  
   
There was a flash of light, and then a sense of suddenly being…elsewhere. Magnus barely had time to register the perceptions that danced just at the edge of his awareness. Dark shapes with glowing eyes, almost demonic as they twisted and coalesced into strange amalgams. He remembered briefly that Illyana's teleportation power relied on stopping off in Limbo before moving on to the eventual destination, and the reminder that she was still tied to such darkness sent a chill through him. Then there was no more time for thought as they materialized in the burning remains of Alpha Flight's base.  
  
Iceman was in action first, ice power covering and killing the flames easily and clearing a path through the burning building toward the control room, which Magneto was already moving toward inside one of his magnetic bubbles at top speed. Iceman moved in behind him, clearing the path for the others, Gambit, Rogue, Madelyne and Illyana hot on his heels.  
  
They had almost arrived when the entire building seemed to shake to its very foundations, bringing down entire sections of the ceiling, and this time Iceman used his power to try and catch the debris. But for all his power, there was too much of it. 

"That's gotta be Arclight," he hissed, straining to maintain the ceiling structure and catch all of the pieces at once. And then, suddenly, the load was lighter. Pieces of the ceiling began to move back into their proper places. Perplexed, Iceman risked a glance to see who might be helping him, and was extremely surprised to find Madelyne standing by his side. Without a word, they worked in silent tandem, she replacing the pieces with her telekinesis and he reinforcing them in place and strengthening the structure with solid ice. It took only a minute, maybe two, but they were both aware that every second that passed was precious. Bobby only hoped that Rogue, Gambit and Magneto would be enough to keep the Marauders at bay.  
  
The situation in the control room was no less dire. Even as Magneto entered the room, it began to fall in on him under Arclight's assault. But there was a reason he was called the master of magnetism. Using only the smallest portion of his power, he held the impending walls and ceiling at bay, encasing the entire room in a magnetic bubble. Turning his attention to the battle scene, he was immediately overcome with a rage so gripping that in some dim corner of his mind, he was almost appalled by it.  
  
Siryn lay amid the debris of the room, her legs buried in rubble from what was likely Arclight's first assault. From here, he couldn't tell if she were alive or dead, and Arclight apparently did not mean to give him the chance to find out. With a predatory smile, she moved in front of Magnus to engage him, like a shark circling in on its prey. A moment later, her smug looked turned to one of surprise as she was bowled over by Rogue, who flew into her at top speed. The two went down in a tangle of arms and legs, and Magnus turned his attention to what concerned him most.  
  
Or tried, anyway.  
  
Riptide began his whirlwind spin, sending shrapnel and shuriken hurtling throughout the room. Gambit yelled a warning, then ducked behind one of the large, destroyed pieces of equipment for cover. Illyana winked out of existence, and Rogue completely ignored the hail of metal objects, impervious as she was to their effects. Her uniform was slashed in hundreds of places, but the skin beneath remained intact as she traded mighty blows with Arclight. Magnus felt his rage begin to burn like a living thing within him as the madman Riptide cackled and sent another wave of sharp objects at him.  
  
With barely a flick of his hand, Magnus turned the tide of missiles back against their originator. Riptide barely had time to look surprised before he was shredded with the sheer velocity of his own weapons turned back at him. Slowly, the whirlwind in the room calmed, then died. Of the former Marauder, there remained only a red stain. Again, Magnus moved toward Siryn, this time reaching her and kneeling beside her. Touching her tenderly with the same hand that had only moments ago meted out merciless death, he felt for her pulse. Then the room turned inside out.  
  
Gambit saw Magneto go down under Vertigo's assault, but he had bigger things to worry about. _MUCH bigger things_, he thought as Blockbuster lifted him through the air by his neck until they were face to face. Struggling to breathe, he nonetheless met the dim-witted Marauder with a glare that could have frozen the heart of a volcano.  
  
"Why fight us, LeBeau? You use ta be one of us," Blockbuster inquired as if he truly didn't understand.  
  
"I was…never…one of…you," Gambit spat vehemently, Blockbuster's statement ripping open a wound he'd thought closed long ago. The rage he felt at being compared to these cold-blooded murderers, the guilt he felt for ever bringing them together, and the sneaking suspicion that he, in his own way, was no better than them for his part in things, all welled inside of him with one great burst of kinetic energy.   
  
The first thing Blockbuster noticed was that his head felt sort of tingly. "What are you doing, LeBeau?" he asked suspiciously, too thick and dim-witted to catch onto the truth soon enough to save himself.  
  
"Undoing the biggest mistake I ever made in my life," Gambit grunted out as he released the last of his kinetic energy into the large mans head, then pulled back quickly, trying to shield his face from the coming blast.  
   
The effect was nothing less than spectacular. For a moment, Blockbusters head glowed almost as bright as a sun, filled to brimming with glowing, pink, kinetic energy. Then, it simply exploded with sickening pop, the remains vaporized as they hit the air by the sheer power of the charge. Gambits arms were burnt fairly badly, and his trench coat was ruined, but he was alive, he thought as he fell to the ground from Blockbusters lax grip. Gasping for air, he slid to the side quickly to avoid being crushed by the mans grotesquely huge body as it hit the floor.  
  
Rogue spared a glance in her lover's direction as she heard the loud thump of Blockbusters body against the floor, and sent him a smile. It cost her. Arclight connected with a right to her jaw that felt like it snapped her head off. Reeling backward toward the floor, she had time to think what a fool she was to take her attention off her enemy like that, and then the floor came up and seemed to swallow her whole.  
  
"Damn," Gambit hissed as he crawled across the floor toward the unsuspecting Vertigo. Rogue was out, Magneto was down for the moment, there was no sign of Illyana, and he still had two Marauders left to deal with. "My kinda odds," he whispered to himself with a wry grin. Truth to tell, there were no odds. He was almost completely drained of power and weak from the use of so much of it. But Remy LeBeau always played the hand he was dealt, to the end.  
  
"Vertigo! Behind you!" Arclight shouted.  
   
And as the world spun sickeningly around him, Gambit scarcely had time for regret as he realized his luck had finally run out.  
  



	6. TRG Chapter 5: Sifting the Ashes

CHAPTER 5: SIFTING THE ASHES  
  
"Oh, ye of little faith," Madelyne taunted from the doorway of the control room as she picked up on Gambit's thought, which was not hard to do, considering the way it was bouncing around the room with Vertigo's special help.  
  
Arclight hesitated at the sound of her voice, fist raised high in the air, having been prepared to crush Gambit's skull in as he writhed helplessly on the floor. That split second was all Iceman needed to hit her hard and take her down.  
  
Bobby Drake was not a killer by nature, though he had become hardened with his years in this chaotic world. Killing seemed to come so easily these days… to their enemies, to the humans, even to his own teammates. It was as if the value of life had dropped very low suddenly, and people were deciding to cash out while they still could. Certainly, he had done his share of killing in the last eight years since the madness of the Shadow King began, but he had never become a "killer". He only killed when absolutely necessary or when left with no other choice. Maybe it was because he was a throwback to the old days, when the original X-Men had first formed, that he still held his values as high as he did. Or maybe it was just because he was a nice guy with a forgiving heart. But whatever it was, it was the only thing keeping Arclight alive right now.  
  
He froze Arclight in a solid block of ice up to her neck as Madelyne moved off, allowing her room to breathe even as he rendered her harmless…for about 30 seconds. Then she burst free with an incredible rippling of muscle, and Bobby noticed as she moved in on him, that she was absolutely huge, somewhere near the size the She-Hulk had once been.  
  
He wasn't about to find out what those muscles could do to his ice-form.  
  
As she swung at him, Bobby brought up one arm, not to block the blow, but to grab her fist and dodge the hit instead. Her momentum carried them forward and they hit the ground side by side, Bobby maintaining his grip as he impacted hard against the concrete floor. Arclight looked confused for a fraction of a second, then grimaced, and began screaming in pain as he froze her arm solid, all the way through, every muscle, every sinew, with the freezing temperature of liquid nitrous. Then he gave one sharp tug and pulled the limb free from her shoulder, watching as it shattered into a million fragments of glittering ice shards.  
  
Bobby Drake was not a killer, no, but drastic times called for drastic measures.   
  
He iced over the wound at Arclight's shoulder as she fell unconscious, preventing her from bleeding to death, then spared a glance around the room to see how they were doing.  
  
Illyana flashed back into the room next to him, Polaris at her side, startling him as they appeared from nowhere, and he had to fight every instinct to keep from pummeling them with a load of ice. He sighed, then gave them a severe look, motioning for them to be quiet as he caught sight of what was happening across the room.  
  
He watched as Madelyne moved toward Vertigo with a confident calm, resembling nothing more than a cat about to play with its prey. The younger girl was so busy trying to keep Magnus and Gambit occupied that she had yet to notice the tall, deadly woman approaching. And even if she had, it would have done her no good.   
  
The weakest link of the Marauders, Vertigo was only good for disorienting opponents to make her teammates slaughter of them that much easier. She had no power, no training that allowed her to kill on her own, and she knew it. Just as she knew she was in trouble, now. It made her nervous that she could not see the entire room for the gigantic machine that served as the bases brain. A hulking piece of metal with twinkling lights and buttons, it descended like a tree trunk through the center of the room, a good 20 feet wide in circumference. Frowning, biting her lower lip in concentration, she focused on keeping the two men down, knowing if she let them up she was done for. But she wanted, in truth, nothing more than to flee the scene and save her own hide. The entire team, save Arclight, had already been downed, and she did not want to be next.   
  
Considering that, she began to back toward one of the gaping holes in the walls of the control room, thinking to keep the men disoriented long enough to make good her escape into the surrounding woods. With any luck, maybe one of the others would have the same idea and they could get out of this freezing climate together. Vertigo had no love for any of her teammates, but she hated being alone.  
  
Her foot had actually touched the melted slush outside when a sudden, jolting pain shattered through her skull, her brain seeming to catch fire and explode. She died so quickly she didn't even have a chance to scream before she hit the floor.  
  
Bobby gave Vertigo a glance as she fell to the floor, watching as smoke drifted from the girls nostrils, then looked to Madelyne in astonishment. "What the hell did you do to her?"  
  
Madelyne shrugged, not moving to help him as he went to Gambit and Magneto, checking to see that they were alright. "Flash-fried her synapses. The brain does run on low level electrical impulses, after all," she said by way of explanation to his dubious look. "Force them all to converge in a certain way…well, I don't need to draw you a picture, do I?" she asked with a cool smile.  
  
"No," he said shortly, turning his attention fully to Magneto and Gambit. "They seem to be coming around. They should be alright in a moment or two. It's Siryn I'm worried about…we need to get her some medical attention, and quickly."  
  
"Good. Holding up this room is getting boring," Madelyne replied nonchalantly. In the absence of Magnus' power to hold the room together, she had brought a telekinetic bubble forth to bear its weight, something Bobby had been completely unaware of. It made him extremely uncomfortable to think that most of their lives had been saved by this cold, cruel woman, today.  
  
"Iceman!" Illyana called excitedly from the other side of the room. "I think she's coming around."  
  
"You left Arclight alive?" Madelyne asked him disdainfully.  
  
"Not all of us are heartless killers like you, Madelyne," he replied, standing and moving toward Illyana's voice.  
  
"Hmm…" Madelyne called thoughtfully, almost slyly behind him. "I wonder if Havok would have agreed with that assessment."  
  
Bobby stopped in his tracks, muscles between his shoulder blades tightening as the barb drove home. Of  the few times he had killed, perhaps Havok had been the most ruthless death he had delivered. During the X-Men's final battle against the Shadow King, Havok had killed Firestar, otherwise known as Angelica Jones. Not only had she been a wonderful person, full of hope and promise for the future, but she and Bobby had been in love. Havok had laughed in his face after killing her, and Bobby had snapped, driving one of Marrows bone shards into the other mans evil heart. It had been a harsh, irrevocable, reprehensible act. And he had never regretted it.  
  
"Being another of Havok's former lovers, Madelyne, I should think you would be able to answer that yourself," Polaris commented as she floated a few feet above the debris, rounding the "brain" of the base and coming into full view. "I could."  
  
Bobby bit back a smile and continued toward Illyana, letting his own retort to Madelyne die unspoken. He wished he could stay and hear the rest of the conversation, but there were more important things to worry about right now.  
  
He rounded the center "brain" to find Illyana hovering cautiously over a moaning Arclight. "Okay, Illyana. I want you teleport everyone back home right away. Siryn and Arclight need medical attention, and I'm sure Magnus will want to question our…captive."  
  
"What about you?" she asked, seeming concerned.  
  
"I'm gonna stay and do clean up duty. See if there are any…other survivors."  
  
"Count me in for dat," came a thick cajun accent from behind him.  
  
Bobby had no great love for Gambit, but in that moment he found himself grateful to the cajun for his offer. There was no way he wanted to stick around this place all by himself.  
  
 *          *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *  
  
Bobby sighed and shook his head. After two hours of picking through the debris, they had yet to find a single living soul. They had found Rahne not far from where Siryn had been, buried beneath what seemed like a ton of brick, a testament to the dangers of Arclights brute strength. It looked like she'd gotten her own licks in before she died, though, if Scalphunter and Harpoon were any indication. It was hard to tell what had been brought down with bombs and what had been destroyed by the Marauders sheer strength, but Bobby found himself silently thanking whatever power might be listening that all the bodies they had found so far, save Rahne, seemed to have been incinerated by the initial bomb blast.  
  
The bodies of the Marauders they simply let burn, but the others he had gathered together in a coffin of ice to be transported back home and buried. Every X-Man who had died so far was buried in New York, on the original mansion grounds. It was a tradition by now. So many of them had lived their entire lives there that it only seemed fitting that they find eternal rest in the same place. Alpha Flight may have been Canadian and not truly part of the X-Men, but they held the same spirit and deserved to lie beside their fellow mutants.  
  
Among the missing, he counted Puck and Northstar. He was quickly coming to the conclusion that they were so deeply buried that he might simply never find them. Disgusted, he threw himself down on a pile of debris, something that might have been a bed once, before it burned, and looked up at his partner in this unpleasant business.  
  
"What do you think, Remy?"  
  
Gambit eyed him quietly for a moment, drawing a cigarette from seemingly thin air and tapping it lightly against one finger before placing it between his lips. Using his kinetic energy to light the tip, he took a deep drag and then exhaled a sigh of his own. "I t'ink dere's too many coincidences happenin' here, non?"  
  
"That's exactly what I was thinking," Bobby nodded in agreement. "Madelyne mysteriously returns from the dead, begging for sanctuary with us, which Magneto, for some stupid reason, gives her. Then, not an hour later, the Marauders mysteriously rise from the dead as well, attacking Alpha Flight and killing most of them. We rush to get here, thank God for Illyana, and Madelyne ends up saving most of our butts." He chewed on the inside of his jaw in irritation. "Seems kinda odd, doesn't it?"  
  
"You still believe in God?" Gambit asked curiously, seeming to ignore the rest of his words in favor of that one statement. Then, he shrugged as if it didn't matter and changed to the topic at hand. "Yeah…Madelyne, de Marauders…both belong to Sinister to some degree." He frowned and exhaled slowly into the darkness. "Sometin' big happenin' here, Bobby. An' I don't t'ink we gonna know just what it is for a while, yet."  
  
Bobby nodded again, this time silently, lost in his thoughts. After a few minutes of silence between them, he spoke again.  
  
"Maybe Sinister thought this would be a good way to have Madelyne "prove" herself. Maybe he sent the Marauders here for just the purpose of giving Madelyne a chance to fight beside us and save our collective butts."  
  
Gambit chuckled bitterly and shook his head. "You really are de conspiracy theorist, ain't you?" He sighed and looked skyward, cigarette seemingly forgotten in his hand. "It sound right up his alley, too."  
  
"Then why are you chuckling at my theory?" Bobby asked, squinting to get a better view of Gambit's face.  
  
"Because it feel _too_ much like Sinister. And if dere's one t'ing I know about de man, it's dat you usually can't ever tell he been involved wit sometin' until it's too late."  
  
"Maybe we're just getting better," Bobby replied hopefully.  
  
"Maybe…" was all Gambit said, aloud. But in his mind, he wondered if someone was maybe playing them all for fools. Or maybe he was being even more paranoid than Bobby, another voice spoke up in his mind. The whole thing stunk of Sinister, and he had to admit he was badly shaken up by seeing the Marauders again like that. It brought back too many bad memories of the past, memories he had tried to forget for eleven years without success.   
  
He had worked for Sinister at one of the lowest points of his life, when he had been desperate for the help the man could offer, and had assembled the Marauders for him. To this day, he felt responsible for each and every death they had caused. And there had been hundreds. The Morlocks had been the worst of it, but surely not the last. Alpha Flight was only the most recent example, he thought, closing his eyes painfully. All of the blood they had spilled was on his hands. He had spent everyday since then trying to atone for his sin, but he had finally realized that that was impossible. It would always be there, like a blight upon his soul, just as Sinister would always be there, waiting, watching, waiting for his chance to seduce Remy once again to his side. All of this coupled with the problems of his children added up to nothing good. Sinister was back, and God help him, Remy didn't think he was going to get away alive this time.  
  
He flicked his cigarette out into the blackness of the night, watching as the glowing ember at its end faded away into nothingness, then turned to Bobby with a resigned sigh. "Back to work, non?"  
  
 *          *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *  
  
And in the darkness beyond the glowing embers of the remains of the base, bemused, hidden eyes watched as the two turned and headed back into the rubble. A dark chuckle and barely a rustle in the underbrush later, the watcher was gone, off to plot their next move.  
  



	7. TRG Chapter 6: Ghosts of Past & Present

CHAPTER 6: GHOSTS OF PAST AND PRESENT  
  
Bobby almost thought he was imagining things when twenty minutes after he and Gambit returned to searching, he heard a soft moan from beneath a pile of rubble nearby. The night had been so long and disparaging that he had nearly given up hope completely. Standing perfectly still in the darkness, he listened apprehensively, not expecting the sound to be repeated, expecting it to be a simple, hopeful figment of his own imagination. A full minute passed, and with a heavy heart, he stepped one foot forward, about to move on, when the sound came again.  
  
"Gambit!" he called out excitedly. "Hurry, we got a live one over here!"  
  
*           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *  
  
Magnus sighed and set his jaw angrily. "I will ask you one more time, Arclight," he said quietly, biting off each word. "Who sent you to do this, and why?"  
  
The hulking woman laughed mockingly from within her bonds of steel, though it was a far cry compared to her normal, almost baritone voice. Pale from lack of blood and exhausted from her ordeal, she seemed a shadow of her usual intimidating presence. Magnus had to give her credit though; she had regained consciousness quickly and had managed not to slip into shock despite the sudden loss of her arm. Her stamina did her credit, to be sure, but he was running short on patience after the events that had transpired tonight.  
  
"And I'll tell you one more time; forget about it, Magneto. I'm not telling you and your precious pansies anything. You'll find out soon enough what's going on…that is, if you don't get your tickets punched, first."  
  
With but a thought, he tightened the metal bands around her body, causing her to wince and gasp for air. "You play a dangerous game, Marauder. One you cannot hope to win. I give you one more chance to answer my question, and then--"  
  
"I tire of this routine, Magnus," Madelyne interrupted loftily from her position in the corner of the room. "Why not simply let me rip the secrets from her mind and save yourself the stress? Can't be too careful of high-blood pressure at your age, after all," she added with a smirk.  
  
He cast her such a dark look that she was almost sure it would turn her to dust, then he nodded once, stiffly. "Do it."  
  
With a Cheshire cat grin, she reached out with a mental probe, not bothering to enter the Marauders mind gently…and was nearly knocked to the floor with the backlash that struck her like a physical blow as she encountered the woman's mental shields.  
  
Unable to suppress a gasp, she regained her unsteady footing, staring at the woman with shock.  
  
Arclight merely laughed softly in return.  
  
*           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *  
  
"How much longer?" Colossus asked impatiently from the passenger seat in the cockpit of the Blackbird.  
  
"Another hour or so and we should be there," Kitty replied from the pilot seat, no less eager than her husband to see his sister. "I'm already pushing the Blackbird to her highest limits…we can't go much faster without risking complete engine failure."  
  
They were lucky to still have the craft at all, considering how badly everything had been destroyed during the war with the Shadow King. With humanity scattered and on the run, no new weapons, machines, transports, or anything were being made. She supposed that in way, that was good, thought it would be better if such things weren't necessary at all. Unfortunately, the world could use more war-geared technology at this point. It had taken all of her considerable mechanical/computer skill to even get the jet running again, and still it was nowhere near top performance level.  
  
But it scarcely mattered. Illyana was alive, and there was nothing in Heaven or Hell or even on this Earth that could keep her from her best friend. She hardly even wondered at how so much as she simply thanked God that it was so.   
  
Lockheed cooed inquisitively from her shoulder, wrapping his long, purple tail gently around her neck. Kitty smiled and leaned against the little dragon lovingly, understanding his sentiment if not his words.  
  
Lockheed nuzzled back affectionately, tangling himself further into her hair. He could tell that his mistress was extraordinarily happy, and he knew why. But unlike his mistress, Lockheed was inherently suspicious of Illyana's sudden return, as he was of everything that had the potential to hurt Kitty…or even Colossus, these days.   
  
He suspected something much more sinister was at work here, and he meant to find out exactly what.  
  
*           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *  
  
Bobby, Gambit and the sole survivor they had found teleported into the med-lab in a brilliant flash of light, courtesy of Illyana. Judging from the frowning looks they received, Bobby guessed they had just interrupted something rather important. Not that it mattered, really. Nothing was more important than saving the life of the man they had found.  
  
Magnus frowned at them a moment longer, then, in a rare event, actually smiled. "Eugene!" he exclaimed with real pleasure. "How wonderful to see you have survived."  
  
"Been around too long to (cough) let a couple of bullets take me out now," the short, stocky man returned, his bitter humor causing the entire room to smile slightly…everyone except Arclight, who glowered at him murderously, reminding everyone of severity of the situation.  
  
"Well, don't stand there gawking," Magnus snapped, his momentary happiness disappearing. "Get the man to the med-slab, now."  
  
Polaris jumped to attention at once, taking over the situation as she used her magnetic power to gently transport the man into the next room where he could heal properly. A moment later she disappeared behind him, leaving behind the tense situation in the main med-lab.  
  
Arclight didn't even wait for the door to slide completely shut before she started her tirade again. "You may as well kill me now, Magnus," the Marauder taunted from her helpless position in the air, metal bonds digging deep into her skin. "You're not going to get anything useful from me. I don't even know why Ice-boy there didn't finish me when he had the chance. Destroying my arm was Iso/I much more merciful," she added caustically.  
  
Bobby stared at her impassively, obviously unimpressed. "Much less than what you would have done to me."  
  
Magnus stared at her, seeming to consider, then finally nodded. "You are right," he agreed almost amiably, then closed his fist tight.  
  
Arclight could feel her blood moving unnaturally through her veins, barely having time to realize what he meant to do before her heart shut down completely, the iron in her blood clogging each of her main arteries. Her head sagged to her breast, and finally the sharp-tongued, belligerent Marauder lay eternally silent.  
  
"Was that really necessary?" Bobby felt the need to ask after a few seconds of silence had passed.  
  
Magnus looked at him curiously, seeming surprised that he was being questioned at all. "Of course it was, Robert. Unless you meant for us to keep her here forever as a prisoner, for we certainly could not set her free to kill more innocents. She was naught but a killing machine, a vicious murderer who would have ended your life as soon as looked at you…and yet, you still feel the need to ask such a question?"  
  
Bobby's lips thinned into a hard line and he said nothing more, though his thoughts echoed much of what Magnus had just said. It was almost ironic that he should say such a thing, considering the man had been a terrorist for most of his early career as a villain. In fact, he wasn't much better now, save for the fact that now he only killed those who stood in the way of returning the world to order, Bobby thought.  
  
Without another word, Magnus spun imperiously on his heel and exited the room, Madelyne sauntering close behind him, leaving Bobby and Gambit to stare at Arclights body.  
  
*           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *  
  
"Lorna? You busy?" Bobby asked, poking his head through the doorway to the healing room.  
  
"No, Bobby, just watching over them right now," she answered quietly, motioning for him to enter.  
  
He stepped inside, the door sliding shut automatically behind him. The room was dimly lit to allow the patients better rest. Siryn lay off to the far side of the room, looking as if she were resting peacefully within her healing pod, while Puck lay in the pod closest to the entrance, Lorna standing watch over him.  
  
"How's he doing?" he asked, coming up beside her.  
  
"Pretty well, surprisingly. The man has a hearty constitution, I'll give him that," Lorna said with an admiring smile. "He's not out of the woods yet, but it looks like he'll make it."  
  
They stood for a while in silence, the way old friends do sometimes, feeling no need to fill the space with words.  
  
"Arclight's dead," he spoke up after a time, and Lorna merely nodded in response, having expected it. 

"When did it get so easy?" he wondered aloud. "All the killing, the complete disregard for life…whatever happened to the good old days when we fought guys like Unus the Untouchable, or the Vanisher?"  
  
"Gone, like our youth," Lorna returned, no less wistfully. "I miss those days, too Bobby, even though I never really wanted to be a super-hero. It was so much easier back then…I could walk away from it, try to live a normal life and feel that the world was still taken care of, that it didn't need me. But I guess no one can escape their fate." She sighed. "Sometimes I regret the day I ever heard the word mutant."  
  
"I know, Lorna," he said, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. And he did know. Too well, in fact. He himself had always wanted to be a super-hero. It had always seemed so exciting, so adventurous, almost glorified. When he had started out, he had truly thought they could change the world. Lorna had never wanted any of those things, though. Born with the green hair that marked her as a mutant, she spent much of her life in denial of her powers, until Mesmero had come along and hypnotized her, using her for her abilities and pitting her against the X-Men.   
  
He still remembered the first time he had ever seen her, surrounded by a glowing, crackling nimbus of magnetic energy, clothed in a shade of green that perfectly matched her hair, looking more like a goddess than a simple mutant. He still thought today that it had been in that moment that he had fallen for her. But that had been years ago, when they were mere teenagers playing at love. She had joined the X-Men for a time, and she and Bobby had shared a brief relationship before she had moved on. Time eventually linked her with Cyclops' brother, Havok, and they had seemed destined to be together despite the many tragedies that plagued them throughout the years. The only time Bobby ever felt even a twinge of guilt for his actions with Havok was when he looked at Lorna, knowing that she had loved the man once upon a time.   
  
"Do…do you ever hate me for what I did to him?" Bobby asked hesitantly, not wanting to know, but somehow needing to hear her answer.  
  
Her eyes snapped up to meet his, not fully registering the odd question in her drifting mind, at first. Then she saw the regret in his soft, brown eyes, and she understood. "No, Bobby," she said softly, magnanimously. "I would have done it myself after some of the things he did, especially after what he did to you," she went on, carefully avoiding mentioning Angelica's name. Still, she saw the sadness in his eyes at her reference, and she inwardly wept for his pain, knowing exactly how he felt. The only difference for her was that when she had still loved Alex Summers, and thought him dead, he had always managed to return somehow. "Everything I felt for him was dead before the Shadow King ever claimed him. After what he did to me while he pretended to be with the Brotherhood the first time…I simply couldn't forgive him."  
  
Bobby nodded, unable to disagree. "I always thought you deserved better, anyway, Lorna."  
  
She smiled sadly, reaching up to touch his cheek. "I knew it then, but I didn't want to realize it. Eventually, I had no choice. He was even more married to his job as a super-hero than Scott was. I seem to have a penchant for falling for guys too devoted to their work to have time for me. My time with Steve-- Captain America taught me that. He was as bad as Alex, in his own way." She drew back her hand and smiled with irony. "It's funny…but sometimes I find my self wondering how different things would have been if I had just stayed with you."  
  
"Oh, come on, Lorna," he chuckled, trying to play off her statement. "We both know I would have driven you crazy, immature as I was back then."  
  
"Maybe," she chuckled in return, seeming to consider. Then her face went completely still as her eyes locked on his, her voice growing even softer. "But you're a grown man, now."  
  
Something changed in that instant between them, Bobby felt it as surely as if lightning had just struck and left an electrical charge in the space between them. "Lorna…," he began uncertainly, having no idea what to say.  
  
And then he couldn't speak at all as her lips drew closer to his, lost in the moment, lost in the deep emerald pools of her eyes. He stared into their shining depths and instant longer before closing his own eyes, unable to do anything but relent to the moment.  
  
It was at exactly that moment that the door to the healing room hissed open.  
  
Lorna drew back suddenly, as if slapped, and Bobby started guilty, like a child caught doing something he shouldn't be.  
  
"Uhh…maybe I just come back later," Gambit said with forced lightness as he ducked back out the door.  
  
That jolted Lorna from her frozen position, and she made for the door hastily, stepping out of it before it had even fully closed behind Gambit.  
  
Bobby heaved a long, weary sigh and let his head fall against the metal wall of the healing room with a dull thud.  
  
*           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *  
  
The scientist sat perched over his latest and greatest experiment, looking down at the lovely face of his subject with something like adoration.  
  
"Soon, my dear," he whispered almost reverently as he stroked her cheek. "Very soon."  
  



	8. TRG Chapter 7: Of Regret & Rememberance

CHAPTER 7: OF REGRET AND REMEMBERANCE  
  
It was insanity, Sinister thought as he reviewed the files that the computer had pulled up. Bringing back such a being could only spell Armageddon for this already faltering world. And he could only assume that that was the intention of the mysterious person who had sent this baffling message. What else could it possibly mean? Someone was toying with him, giving him a glimpse of their hand before laying their cards out on the table and ending the game completely. For everyone. What kind of maniac would be so arrogant and--  
  
Maniac, he thought, his mind snagging hold of the word. Maybe he did know what kind of maniac would dare, at that. Sinister's visage twisted into a snarl, and his fingers dug into the lab table with such strength that the metal buckled beneath his rage.   
  
"Damn the fool," he swore beneath his breath, red eyes lighting up like twin fires, almost blinding in their intensity despite the bright lights of the lab.  
  
*           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *  
  
"What's the matter Gambit…can't sleep?" Madelyne purred in her throaty, knowing voice as Remy passed her in the hall.  
  
Considering, he turned to face her, red eyes flashing in the semi-darkness as he studied the gloating expression she wore almost constantly. As if she had some secret that gave her ultimate power over every other being around her. He broke the gaze and ran a tired hand through his hair, knowing that he must have looked much worse than he felt, like an addict who'd been too long without a fix. "S'been a long day, petite, neh? Too much t' t'ink about for me to sleep."  
  
Madelyne smiled, an almost predatory smile, he noted, as she sauntered closer to him, hips swaying provocatively. "I agree…why sleep when there are so many more…exciting things to do?" she asked suggestively, her voice dropping to a husky whisper. She moved closer still to him, leaving only a mere foot of space between their bodies, emerald eyes fixing on his admiringly on his frame.  
  
If she had been any other woman, Gambit simply would have finessed his way out of the situation with his not inconsiderable smooth charm. But with this woman, he thought perhaps a blunt denial would work best to get the message across. And that was if he was lucky.  
  
He raised his hand to stroke his chin, as if in thought, making sure that the wedding band on his left hand caught the light. "Now chere, you know I'm a married man…"  
  
"Yes," she replied, crossing her arms and looking at him with raised brows, her whole demeanor, her very poise set as if to say "and so what?"  
  
"So den…" he said, beginning to turn away, as if that settled the matter.  
  
Madelyne laughed aloud. "What's this? Nobility from the man who worked for Sinister and organized the Marauders?"  
  
Remy stopped in mid-step, feeling his heart turn stone cold at her insult. Of all the things she could have said, that was the one that struck home the most. She really should have known better. Madelyne might be dangerous, might even be able to kill him, but he had never let good sense get in the way of avenging an insult. Barely turning his head to the side, his words were flat and cold as he spoke. "You know, for all dat you have Jean Grey's face, you got none of de lady's class."  
  
Madelyne's anger rose like a flash-fire in mid-summer underbrush, her green eyes flashing dangerously. Remy could almost feel her anger like a living thing from five feet away, and he allowed himself a small smirk for pushing her buttons as well as she had pushed his.  
  
"I could make you, you know," she sneered, her voice turning harsh and ugly, such a dramatic change from her normal seductive purr. "Reach right into your tiny little mind and pull your strings like a puppet."  
  
Gambit turned slowly back toward her, purposely leaning casually against the wall, arms folded over his chest in apathetic challenge. "You certainly welcome to try, petite."  
  
Enraged, Madelyne pushed out with all her might, thinking to at least render him unconscious and give him a raging headache, as she no longer had a taste for his more carnal instincts. Shocked for the second time that day, she didn't manage to recover from the wave of power that shoved her backwards, and she fell ungracefully floor in a heap. Murder in her eyes, she snarled like a wild animal as she leaped to her feet, wondering where the hell this man had gotten psi-shields of that kind of power.  
  
Gambit merely continued to smirk, allowing himself a few seconds of satisfaction as he basked in her hateful expression. Then he let his arms drop back to his sides and pushed off from the wall with his shoulder, turning away for the last time as he strode down the hall. "Sinister fixed us up good, non?" he asked over his shoulder with quiet sarcasm, leaving Madelyne sputtering in rage and disbelief behind him.  
  
*           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *  
  
"God Remy, you look like hell," Rogue observed aloud as he stepped, almost staggering into the room.  
  
"I got waylaid…by a Mack truck," he replied with a tired wink as he practically fell down onto the bed beside her, thinking his statement had been fairly close to the truth, considering Madelyne's overtures tonight. Turning his face to one side so that he could look up at her, he smiled faintly. "So how's dat glass jaw, ma chere?"  
  
She frowned unhappily at the mention of her injury, the jibe driving home the lingering feeling that she had screwed up badly today. Raising one hand to touch the left side of her jawbone gently, she nodded. "Sore. But Ah'll survive. The med-lab healed most of the damage."  
  
"Well," Remy replied, sitting up to kiss her injured jaw tenderly. "Magnus took care of de femme but good. She won't be punching anyone in de jaw ever again." He paused, then added as an afterthought, "Least til Sinister clone her again."  
  
"It's never gonna end, is it?" Rogue asked with a hopeless sigh. "We killed the Shadow King only to have other tyrants rush to take his place… Ah want so bad to believe that we can put this world back together, make it a better place, the kind of place our children might have a future in. But we can't even protect them, much less save the world," she said bitterly, clenching her pillow tightly in frustration.  
  
"Aw, chere. C'mon…" he said gently sitting up fully and circling his arms around her. "You know we'll find a way to help dem. We got time."  
  
"But no options," she said, her frustration creeping into her voice.  
  
"Well..," Remy thought for a moment, a vision of Sinister passing unbidden through his mind. Shaking the image off with a shiver, he concentrated on the situation and what few viable options they had. "Dere's Madelyne," he suggested, though not with much confidence.  
  
Rogue snorted. "I'd sooner trust the devil himself than that snake in the grass," she spat sarcastically, and Remy supressed another shiver as the reference made him think of Sinister once again.  
  
Forcing the unpleasant thought away, he managed a genuine smile, remembering. "You used t' call me dat, once."  
  
"Yeah," Rogue agreed, smiling back as she thought of their early days together, then turning somber as a thought occurred to her. "But this is different. She's the kinda snake that bites."  
  
"Oui," Remy had to agree after a slight pause. "But she all we got right now, chere. We got to hope she can be persuaded, eventually."  
  
Rogue sighed again and leaned heavily back into his embrace. "Ah guess, sugah…but that don't mean Ah gotta be happy about it."  
  
Gambit nodded and remained silent, holding her tight in his arms as he kissed the top of her head lovingly. He didn't much like the thought of needing Madelyne either, much less letting the woman near his children. But he could scarcely afford to consider the only other alternative. He'd had enough of Sinister in his life already to last him forever, and he was in no hurry to experience the mans not-so-tender mercies again. Any deal with the evil geneticist would be like a double-edged sword: not only would Sinister get what he wanted, but he'd make sure to twist whatever he gave in return in such a manner that no one won but himself. That was Sinister's way. And there was no way in hell Remy was going to risk losing this woman that he loved more than life itself, or his children, whom he loved just as fiercely. He had come too far, had too much to lose and had too many people depending on him now to simply throw away his soul. Had he had only himself to be concerned with, he wouldn't have thought twice about it…but his life had changed a great deal from his solo days. And he loved it.  
  
But if it came down to it, he wondered, could he let his children die instead of making such a deal? He knew he couldn't…so he would simply have to make sure that it never came to that.   
  
*           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *  
  
Bobby tossed and turned in his bed, unable to sleep after everything that had happened tonight. Incredibly, the part that bugged him most was the scenario between he and Lorna in the med-lab earlier tonight. He mentally kicked himself over and over again for letting something like that happen. He should have known better. Sure she was beautiful, sure he cared about her, but he really should have- "Ah, who'm I kidding?" he asked the darkened room out loud. "One look from her and I turned into quivering jelly. Who wouldn't?"  
  
He sighed and rolled over onto his back, staring at the ceiling disconsolately. Now he had probably ruined the friendship he treasured so highly with her for good. She had been having a weak moment, caught up in the memories of her youth, and had let it sweep her away. He should have been stronger, should have stopped her, but the truth was, he'd never truly gotten over his feelings for Lorna, completely. She had always held a special place in his heart over the years, but since they'd been on the team together, they had grown very close as friends, and those feelings, much as he denied them, refused to go away quietly. There was nothing standing between them now, save the fact that she deserved far better than Bobby Drake, he thought. And that was just it, he knew she deserved better than he could ever give her. Lorna was a woman capable of great passion; she threw herself wholeheartedly into everything she did, and in the years following the Shadow King's domination, she had become one of the best soldiers this world had to offer. She had grace, she had poise, a presence that could, at times, make him feel like the callow boy he had been when he first joined the X-Men.    
  
He had felt the same way about Angelica, once, but he had pursued her with good-humor, hiding the ache in his heart as best he could, never expecting to win, and finally, suprisingly, she had accepted him. Accepted him wholeheartedly and with more love than he had ever thought possible. Their time together had been short, but he had never forgotten a single moment of it. The pain had faded somewhat after six years, but he still missed her, longed for her sometimes at his side. And though he knew Angelica would have wanted him to go on without her, he shouldn't have let that need bleed out onto Lorna like that.  
  
He only hoped she could forgive him.  
  
*           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *  
  
Lorna's thoughts echoed Bobby's as she sat, watching over Puck while he healed. What the hell had she been thinking, walking away like that? Bobby must have felt like a complete idiot after she walked out on him, and he surely had to be angry, thinking that she had been playing some stupid game with him. She bit her lower lip and frowned. Why was it nothing ever turned out like she planned it?  
  
She hadn't meant to try and kiss Bobby; it had simply happened, as if it had been the most natural thing in the world. And then, when Gambit had interrupted, she'd felt like a fool for trying to force herself on him so wantonly. If he had wanted her, he would have done something about it ages ago. Besides, she had already thrown him away once, many years ago when they were young… why would he want to subject himself to that again?   
  
She sighed, blowing her bangs up from her eyes with the release of air. The truth was, she had never completely stopped caring for Bobby…and he had grown up so much, turned into the kind of man she could believe in, even follow had he the inclination to take up the role of leadership. But she had screwed that up years ago, unable to see the potential in him as a teenager.  
  
She valued their friendship above any other, cherished it in a way that was only made more special by her feelings for him, which had grown in their time together here.  
  
She only hoped he wouldn't stay angry with her for too long.  
  
*           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *             
  
Illyana moaned fitfully in her sleep as a nightmare gripped her in its merciless claws. Hands reached out from all around her, demonic smiles above the arms in the darkness as they grasped for her, whispering ominously.   
  
She turned and ran into the darkness, almost blinded as portals of light began to flash into existence all around her. Confused, she didn't think as she leapt into one of the portals, only wanting to escape. And then she was falling, falling endlessly through time and space it seemed, finally hitting the ground with a strangely painless thud as she struck the bottom. She stood, heart pounding heavily in her ears as she listened for any sounds of pursuit.  
  
"Illyana," a low voice whispered from the shadows, and she turned, remembering her Soulsword for the first time as she drew it forth to combat this new menace. She recognized that voice…from somewhere. It raised the hairs on the back of her neck for reasons she could not explain, forcing her mind backward into the almost primal thought patterns of childhood. Something here was very wrong…  
  
And then she realized. The eldritch armor that emanated from the sword to clothe and protect her seemed twisted…deformed somehow. Reaching up with trembling hands to feel her forehead, already knowing in some dim part of her mind what she would find there, she nonetheless drew back in surprise as her fingers came in contact with two, long metal horns. And then she realized…both hands were on her head, so her sword was….where? With horror, she saw it then, held up before her, coiled tightly in her…forked tail…  
  
"Welcome home, Darkchilde," Belasco laughed mockingly.  
  
*           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *             
  
"Master?" Seera inquired meekly from the doorway. She hadn't wanted to interrupt him while he was in such an obvious foul mood, but she would only suffer worse later if she didn't tell him what she had found, now.  
  
In cold silence, he turned, ruby gaze falling on her with such intensity that it made her shiver. Submissively, she lowered her eyes to floor, waiting for him to indicate that she should speak.  
  
"What?" he asked in a voice so unnaturally quiet that it sent chills down her spine. Swallowing against the dryness in her throat, she forced herself to speak aloud.  
  
"There is something you should see," was all she said, having to wait only an instant this time before he nodded his acquiescence.  
  
Timidly, she sent the images that she had just seen moments before into his mind. She didn't like it in here at all, his mind was a twisted, dark, confusing maze, but she made herself bear it, pushing down the queasy feeling in her stomach. She was a telepath/post-cog, in the best sense that she could categorize herself, and not a very strong one at that. She got visions of importance sometimes, like newsflashes from around the world, usually disasters, but only after they had already happened. Once, before the war, she had fancied becoming a news reporter, using her mutant ability to get the scoop on every important story and rise to the top. But the Shadow King had cut that career short, and now she found herself a lackey to this terrifying man, Sinister. But at least with him, she had relative safety, if not peace of mind.  
  
Sinister remained impassive as the images paraded inside of his mind, just barely hanging on to his temper as the story progressed. By the end, he was gripping the metal arms of his chair so tightly, Seera thought they might snap like kindling. Quivering in quiet terror, she waited, praying for his dismissal of her. She had never seen him so outraged, and the fact was only made worse by the way he contained it. That made it even more likely to be explosively volatile when he finally released it. She practically ran from the room as he nodded slightly toward her, glad to be away from his presence.  
  
Sinister smashed his fist against one of the metal arms, the light steel screaming in protest as it twisted, damaged beyond repair. "The Marauders," he whispered angrily, still managing to keep the utter rage from his voice. The game had gone too far, now. His old foe had finally overstepped their bounds. No one, but no one, played at being Sinister.  
  



	9. TRG Chapter 8: Deeper Into Darkness

CHAPTER 8: DEEPER INTO DARKNESS  
  
From deep within a sleep that almost felt like death, something stirred and awakened.   
  
Dreaming…she was dreaming, though she realized it not, the scientist thought as he watched the EKG waves spring to life and begin their sudden movement. Pleased beyond anything he could have imagined, a frightening, feral grin spread over his features.  
  
And nearby, his subject continued to dream.  
  
Soaring…she was one with the cosmos, blazing bright as a star, at once both one with the universe and yet apart from it. She felt the cold vacuum of space as it moved aside to let her pass, the warmth of a sun consume her as she passed through it, reveling in the beauty, the perfection of it all. She was elated, her heart racing in her chest with a rhythm that matched her silent race through the diamond lit backdrop of space. Raising her face toward the nearby sun, she basked in the touch of its rays, the golden glow lending her smile an almost heavenly quality. Home…she was home again….  
  
*           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *  
  
Illyana whimpered and turned uneasily in her sleep, much to the dismay of those two who watched over her, not quite daring to wake her. Cold sweat poured from her brow, and she sat bolt upright in bed, as if finally having sensed their presence in the room. Eyes fluttering weakly in the dim light, she struggled to make out their faces, her heart fluttering and racing still with the fear of her dream. And then there were arms around her, one pair strong and comforting, the other slim and loving.   
  
"Piotr? Kitty?" she asked breathlessly, almost not daring to hope.  
  
She felt their nods more than saw them, and sagged with relief into their embrace. "God, it's so good to see you…I thought I…I might never see you again," she whispered softly, tears beginning to flow from her eyes.  
  
"Why Illyana…what made you think you could ever be rid of us?" Kitty asked, leaning back from her and smiling. But something was wrong, Illyana sensed. Kitty's voice had changed at the end… and her face… oh, her face!  
  
Illyana covered her mouth in horror as Kitty's smile grew, seeming to encompass her entire face until it split in two, the halves peeling back to reveal the wrinkled, dark demon flesh below. Her teeth, now fangs, dripped with venom and her eyes flashed a violent red as she lunged forward with her gaping maw to encompass Illyana's head, snapping it off in one, clean bite.  
  
Illyana screamed in horror and woke suddenly, incoherent and sobbing in the arms of her brother and her best friend.  
  
*           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *  
  
Having gained control of his rage and checked in with a few of his informants, Sinister's polished air of refinery returned to him as he reached for the commlink. Pressing in the combination, he drummed his fingers lightly on the comm panel as he awaited a response. Three rings later, a woman's voice answered the call.  
  
"I don't know who you are or how you got this number, but this is a secure line. Please clear the line now, you are unauthorized to be--"  
  
"My dear, your trace will be done and you'll know who I am in less time than it takes to finish this sentence, unless I miss my guess… and I rarely ever do. Be a love why don't you and put on your leader?" he asked, and though his voice was smooth as silk, the underlying threat was loud and clear in his tone.  
  
Silence.  
  
With the faintest hint of a smile, he imagined the expressions on the other end of the line as they realized who their caller was.  
  
*           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *  
  
"Um… Storm?" Alison called timidly from the doorway.  
  
"Yes, Alison?" Storm asked regally, not turning as she continued to monitor the events below her in the Danger Room.  
  
"I…um…there's a call for you…"  
  
And this time Storm caught the shaky sound in her voice, turning quizzically toward the younger woman. There was little that could shake Alison Blaire after all she had been through, Storm knew. This was no ordinary call.  
  
"Who is it?"  
  
"It's…" Alison paused and licked her lips nervously. "It's…Sinister, Ororo."  
  
Without turning back to the control panel, Storm reached down and shut off the sequence in the room below.  
  
*           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *  
  
Lockheed snorted in disgust, then sneezed indignantly as dust filled his nostrils, puffing in annoyance at the tight fit of the vent around him, wondering why they'd even bothered to install a system so small and useless. He paused as the shaft merged with another at a crossroad of sorts, taking the time to stretch his wings gratefully.  
  
He had separated from Kitty almost immediately after her reunion with Illyana and making sure that everything was all right for the time being. Illyana seemed real enough, right enough, but his extra senses told him something here was very wrong. He'd known something was wrong the moment they'd arrived…there was a smell of evil about the place…only the faintest scent, but one he had registered immediately. He finished his stretch and sniffed the air tentatively again, searching for the source of the dark smell. A few steps and scents later, he had it.  
  
It was coming from somewhere in the basement.  
  
*           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *

  
Magneto's anger was an almost palpable as the other X-Men entered the Briefing Room. Remy didn't even need to guess why they'd been called here. After the strike on Alpha Flight's base, he guessed that none of them really needed telling what was to happen next.  
  
Remy glanced up in surprise as he saw Kitty and Piotr enter the room. Perhaps they were here to talk about Illyana after all…  
  
And indeed, Magnus held his anger in check as he nodded cordially to the two, waiting until they were seated before speaking. "Is she well?" he asked briefly, but not without genuine concern.  
  
"As well as can be expected for a person who's been what she's been through," Kitty offered carefully.  
  
Magnus nodded, then moved to the more important topic at hand. "And she still remembers nothing of how she came to be with us?"  
  
"No," Kitty said regretfully, seeming almost uncomfortable at having to admit the fact in front of so many people. "But…we do have a theory."  
  
"Please, continue," Magnus replied with a sweeping gesture that gave them both the floor.  
  
Kitty looked to Piotr questioningly, and Remy noticed the big man nod slightly, as if turning over the discussion to his wife. Kitty nodded, herself, then began. "We think it may be that this Illyana is not "our" Illyana, not the one we knew at all." She glanced about and saw the puzzled looks fixed on her, then continued. "You see, Illyana was not only raised in Limbo as a child, but she passed through that dimension many, many times in her older form. Limbo is nothing if not a nexus of timelines, a place where the walls grow thin between worlds, if you will. That is why she was always able to travel through it to anywhere in the world so easily. Much like the wormhole theory, Limbo is, only not just between points of destination, but actual timelines as well."  
  
She paused again, letting the information sink in for a minute, and held back a sigh as she saw the odd looks exchanged around the table. If only they could see how confused Illyana had been…how alone and vulnerable, they wouldn't even be wasting time on this meeting.  
  
She gave in to her sigh, then rose from her seat, feeling the need to demonstrate as she explained. "You see, time is not constant in Limbo. Rather, all times exist at once all together in one place. It's a difficult concept, there are times when it boggles even my nimble mind, but I know it's true. Through every portal in Limbo, there is not only travel to another destination, but portals to other places in time. When Belasco first took Illyana into Limbo, the X-Men had already been there and died, trying to save her. She spent many years there under his demonic influence, and when she finally escaped, she went backward in time, to the point when the X-Men had first tried to pull her out of the portal." She paused and cleared her throat, struggling with explaining the next part. "Given that theory, that all possible futures and pasts can exist in Limbo simultaneously, it is possible that there are thousands, maybe even a million Illyana's running around in Limbo. This could be one version from a timeline similar to ours…or it could be the same Illyana we knew, who gave up her power during Inferno." She shrugged, realizing how confusing it all sounded. "She certainly has most of the same memories as our Illyana. Any way you look at it, though, she's still the only Illyana, though maybe not the one we particularly knew."  
  
Kitty paused again, hoping vainly that they were getting it by this point, because if she explained it much more, she was going to start confusing herself. "So, all points in time seem to exist in Limbo. We think that this Illyana may have somehow found her way through them and escaped Limbo into this world. She remembers all the events up to the end of Inferno. While the  
rest of us remember the heroic sacrifice she made which cost her her powers and life as an adult, returning her to the age she was before she entered Limbo, Illyana remembers only sealing off Limbo and nothing more. She has no recollection of her life as a child after that, no memories of growing ill and dying of the Legacy Virus."  
  
"Then… you didn't tell her?" Remy asked curiously.  
  
"Why should I have?" Kitty asked almost bitterly. "Why should I tell her that her life of hell came to a perfect, tragic end as we remember it? Doesn't she deserve this second chance she's been given to try and live a more normal life? I don't think that will happen if we tell her she's supposed to be dead."  
  
Remy didn't know Illyana's whole story, but from what he had gathered, it didn't seem to be a happy one. Secrets could be dangerous…but the girl probably did deserve a second chance, much more of one than he, himself, deserved. Why not let her have some happiness? He thought for a moment, then nodded, settling back into his seat.  
  
Kitty seemed about to go on when Magnus interrupted. "So could this in fact, be our Illyana? The same one who sealed off Limbo at the end of Inferno? Could she have gotten caught in the time stream, somehow, after her sacrifice?"  
  
Kitty looked at him uncertainly, then shrugged slightly. "It COULD be…which would explain why she has no memory of events after Inferno. She could have trapped herself inside of Limbo when she sealed it off…from what we gathered from Rahne, who was there, she found a young Illyana in one of the time streams in Limbo and made the demonic Illyana confront herself. It was seeing her own innocence that made the adult Illyana turn back to the side of good and sacrifice her powers and life as she knew it to save our world. We assumed that by giving up her powers, she regressed to the little girl she had been before she entered Limbo and attained her power. But perhaps…perhaps that little girl we found afterward was only the younger version of Illyana that Rahne had found." Kitty's gaze seemed to focus sharply as she turned the idea over in her mind. "Yes…that makes sense."  
  
"And if that is so, then that only leaves one question…" Magnus said ominously, and all eyes turned to him.  
  
"What of the Darkchilde?"  
  
*           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *  
  
Lockheed paused in the darkness of the shaft, his incredible sense of hearing picking up something shuffling in the blackness ahead of him, the first telltale sign of what had brought him down here in the first place. Freezing in mid-motion, he sniffed the air cautiously, silently, making no more noise than spider scuttling through its web. He couldn't see a thing though, and after a few moments of peering into the dark with his infravision, decided he must have either been hearing things or there were undead mice about the ventilation shafts. Chuckling softly to himself, he put one clawed talon forward to begin moving again.  
  
It was then that he realized his mistake. The stench, which had grown stronger with each step of his descent, was now almost overpowering.  
  
They were close, he realized suddenly, too close.  
  
He had no further time for thought then as red eyes and gleaming claws sprang from the darkness all around him, burying him beneath their weight and screaming fury.  
  
*           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *  
  
Remy had tuned out the meeting almost completely by the time it degenerated into argument between Magnus, Kitty and Piotr. He had heard enough to know that this "Darkchilde" was an evil side of Illyana that the girl had constantly battled against, and Magnus questioned the safety of letting her stay with the team. Kitty on the other hand, and Piotr too, for that matter, seemed to believe that it was best to wait until she showed some sign of her dark side before taking any action. They apparently believed that that part of her soul may have been purged by sacrificing her powers at the end of Inferno. Which left the question of course, as to why she still retained her other powers. Remy, for his part, didn't really much care about possible threats, he dealt much better with problems when they were thrown directly in his face. So, he agreed with Kitty and Piotr, in his own way, though he had let the conversation drop out of his conscious hearing when it became increasingly repetitive.  
  
Glancing around the table, he noted Madelyne's absence, then noticed Bobby and Lorna exchanging furtive looks, one always looking away when they caught the other looking at them. Amused, he hid his grin behind one hand as he watched the game of cat and mouse he was so familiar with_. Poor t'ings_, he thought, _already in love and dey don't even know it yet. Hope it's kinder to dem dan it was to me in de beginning_.  
  
Their budding romance reminding him of his early days with Rogue, he caught her hand under the table and squeezed it tightly, turning to smile at her. His own smile abruptly faded when he saw the worried expression on her lovely face, emerald eyes fixed on Magnus, completely oblivious to his touch.  
  
Realizing he had missed something important, he snapped his attention back to the man at the head of the table.  
  
The subject had apparently changed, and Magnus wasted no time getting down to business either. No sooner than Remy looked to the older man, he knew what he was going to say. Magnus' blue-grey eyes were flashing in that old, familiar way, and Remy felt his heart sink to his stomach.  
  
"We're going after Sinister," he said simply.  
  
*           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *  
  
Sinister sat, allowing himself a slight smile as he switched off the comm. The first part of his plan had been set into action…he had only to wait and everything else would fall into place.  
  
If he had been given to humor, he would have laughed heartily at his foes confusion when he realized that Sinister had turned his own plan back upon him. While his foe had plotted to have the X-Men take Sinister out by impersonating him, he had unwittingly given Sinister the one piece of information he needed to make the X-Men go after his enemy instead. It had taken some improvisation, yes, but he had tailored it to fit his needs perfectly.  
  
Oh yes… Nathaniel Essex loved it when a plan came together.  
  
*           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *  
  
"I simply can't imagine what could make Sinister turn on us like this,"  
Remy overheard Lorna say to Bobby as they filed out of the room.  
  
"With someone like Sinister? Who knows?" Bobby returned as flippantly as he could, though he was obviously uncomfortable in Lorna's presence.  
  
"After working beside him against Shaw, I thought we had reached an agreement…a truce of sorts."  
  
"You should know Sinister only agrees to anyt'ing as long as it's beneficial to him. No longer." Remy couldn't help speak up as he passed them.  
  
"And I guess you would know," Bobby replied, and it took Remy a moment to realize that there was, for once, no malice, no humor in his tone. It was a simple statement, and if laced with anything, it was with understanding, sadness even, perhaps.  
  
Remy only nodded in return, and unable to stand strong in the penetrating gaze of the two, he turned and made his way down the opposite hall.  
  
I"What could make Sinister turn on us like this?"/I  
  
Lorna's question reverberated in his head as he drew quickly away from them. Well, he could think of one thing… Worriedly, his eyes flickered toward his children's door at the end of the hall.  
  
*           *          *           *           *          *          *           *           *           *           *  
  
"'Ro? Darlin'?" Logan asked worriedly as she entered the room, face ashen beneath the deep brown of her skin.  
  
She looked to Logan as if in a daze, crystal blue eyes wide as her mouth worked to form words that seemed reluctant to come.  
  
"What did he say?" he asked more gruffly, moving to her and wrapping his arms protectively about her waist.  
  
She spoke as if her words were distant, coming from somewhere other than her conscious mind, gaze remaining fixed on some horror in the distance he could only imagine. "Jean…," she whispered. And in that one word were tied more emotions than he could put a name to…longing, regret, awe, fear, love, hatred. He felt an icy hand wrap around his heart and begin to squeeze.  
  
"What about Jean, darlin'?"  
  
"No…" she shook her head, visibly fighting for control. "Not Jean…the Phoenix," she said with more force.  
  
He felt his heart stop in his chest, unable to force out the next question that begged to be asked. Thankfully, Storm didn't need further prompting.  
  
"She's back."  
  



	10. TRG Chapter 9: Haunted

CHAPTER 9: HAUNTED  
  
"Rinny?" Jean-Luc called out quietly in the darkness. A moment later the rustling sound of his sister's blankets came from the bunk beneath him. Leaning to the side, he hung his head over the edge of the bunk, peering down at her curiously.  
  
"What?" she asked sleepily, sounding irritated at his interruption.  
  
"Did you…," he hesitated, searching the limited words of his six-year old vocabulary for the right ones. "Did you hear mommy and daddy talking earlier?"  
  
And now she hesitated, too, too pale in the darkness, green eyes too wide for such a small face. "Yeah," she nodded slowly, sounding as afraid as he felt.  
  
"They think somethin's wrong with us," he said in agreement. "Somethin bout our…" he lowered his voice to a whisper, knowing his mommy would be very angry if she heard him use the word, "powers."  
  
Irinee's eyes grew even wider, though he wouldn't have thought it possible. "Our powers?" she asked, barely whispering the words.  
  
He nodded again, troubled.   
  
"It sounded scary," Irinee' added, snuggling deep down into her covers as if for protection.  
  
Dimly, Jean-Luc could feel his sister's fear echoing his own, a sort of tingle in his mind. He could always feel her, just a tiny bit, with some small part of his mind; a tiny awareness that never left him quite alone. He remembered he had wandered off once when he was younger, exploring the base and playing on the stair railing when he had fallen and broken his arm. He at least understood that his sister knowing about it had saved him from a whole lot more pain, when his parents had come running frantically to find him. She had told them what had happened without actually being there, though they never realized it.  
  
It seemed like a good power, but powers were bad. He knew it from the looks on mommy and daddy's face whenever they talked about it.  
  
"We can't ever tell 'em our secret now," he said gravely, and she nodded in agreement. "If they knew we had powers already…" he trailed off, unsure how to finish the sentence, not able to think of anything that bad.  
  
Irinee' couldn't imagine anything that bad either, so she did the only thing she could to make everything better. Crawling from her bed, she climbed up the ladder and snuggled in next to her brother.  
  
Grateful for her comfort, Jean-Luc snuggled up close against her and drifted into a troubled sleep.  
  
*           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *  
  
Remy found himself smiling again as he opened the door to his children's room, seeing them side by side, fast asleep, safe and snug. He hadn't even realized how worried for them he'd been until he had seen them there, and now, his heart pounding with relief, he knew he had to do something to help him keep this peace of mind.  
  
He closed the door slowly, then leaned against the doorframe, resting his forehead on the cool wood as his thoughts churned on.  
  
*           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *  
  
Theresa Rourke Cassidy sat up with a sudden, involuntary cry, banging her head against the top of her healing pod with enough force to make the room spin sickeningly. Panic setting in, she clawed blindly at the confines of her pod, her final memories of the battle with the Marauders fueling her desperation, every fiber of her being crying out for escape.  
  
And then suddenly, with a great hissing of air, she was free, a voice speaking quietly and soothingly into her ear. With a low moan, she clutched her belly and turned on her side, letting her vision clear as she tried to get a better look at her surroundings and her rescuer.  
  
The soft green blur before her slowly coalesced into sharply focused strands of green hair, framing a pale, worried face with eyes an even deeper green than her tresses. "Polaris," Theresa whispered, a ghost of a smile touching her lips. "I'm home".  
  
"Yes," Lorna replied, smiling back, hoping to provide some comfort. Then, her hand drifted back down to the settings on the pod, wanting to avoid the questions she knew would come shortly. "Rest now. You're almost well."  
  
Another hiss of air and the pod closed, sending Theresa back into a deep sleep, a sleep far beyond dreams where the Marauders could no longer haunt her. When she woke next, Magnus was there to greet her with waiting arms.  
  
*           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *  
  
Rogue heaved an annoyed sigh and punched the "accept" key on the commlink. "It's always somethin' round this place," she muttered irritably under breath, just before her caller materialized on the screen.  
  
Storm arched her head to one side curiously, her voice cool as it filtered through the speaker. "You said something, Rogue?"  
  
Rogue shifted uncomfortably in her seat, feeling suddenly very awkward in her former teammate's presence. She and Storm had never truly reconciled after what had happened with Cyclops, and the strain between them had remained an almost palpable thing, even after all these years.  
  
"Nothin' important," she replied, bringing her voice up to a more polite tone, then getting down to business. "Ah suppose it's too much to hope that this is a social call?"  
  
"Indeed." Storm nodded, seeming to consider for a moment, then continued. "Is Magnus there?"  
  
The sentence hit Rogue with the sting of a slap, and she felt herself bristling with sudden anger at the obvious slight. Storm could easily relay the message to Rogue to be passed on. After all, that was normal protocol, and yet she felt the need to go over Rogue's head and speak directly with Magnus, as if she were some sort of subordinate. Or as if she didn't trust her.  
  
Barely managing to keep the bitterness from her voice, she pressed another button on the commlink and replied "Ah'll transfer you."  
  
She sat staring at the blank, gray screen for a long time after Storm's image faded, anger and sadness warring for the higher place in her mind.  
  
*           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *  
  
Illyana stood before the window of her room, admiring the realism of the hologram that seemed to let the sun inside. She hadn't even realized that the window was a fake, at first, until Kitty had explained that the complex was buried in a cliff face in the Arizona desert. Then she had noticed that although the sun seemed to brighten the room every morning, it never grew any warmer. That was perhaps the only flaw to this farce, that it appeared so warm and inviting, so real, and yet in truth it was an empty illusion, providing none of the things it seemed to promise….so like Illyana herself. A wry smile touched her lips as she drew the parallels between this manufactured technology and her own life.  
  
Still standing in the simulated light, she flipped open the amulet in her hands and stared down at it, almost as fascinated as she had been with the sun a moment ago. Three red stones burned like live coals at three points of the pentagram engraved within, so small as to almost be insignificant…and yet they had been the cause of all the misery in her life. These stones and she were bound together for all time in a constant battle between darkness and light, neither one ever winning out over the other. To think that a soul could be measured by three stones…it seemed almost insane, when she thought about it, but there it was. Five points, three of them filled with evil, more than half of her soul already claimed. She sighed and snapped the amulet closed, tossing it away from her and onto the bed.  
  
Would that she could be rid of it so easily, she thought, turning back toward the window. But there seemed to be no escape from her destiny. After all, the amulet had suddenly appeared only yesterday.  
  
*           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *  
  
Magnus was pacing like a caged animal when Remy entered the meeting room, and if that wasn't bad enough, he could tell by the look on everyone's face that something was terribly, terribly wrong.   
  
"What'd I miss?" he asked as he strolled leisurely to his seat, determined not to let the mood get to him.  
  
"You, are late," Magnus snapped as Remy took his chair next to Rogue.  
  
Remy spread his hands wide, one corner of his mouth turning up in a grin. "I know…. but kids, dey wait for no one when dey hungry, neh?"  
  
"Well then, let us hope that when the time comes next to save the world, that the threat has the decency to wait until after lunch," Magnus snorted.  
  
Remy continued to smile, simply shrugging, not missing the fact that the older man had responded with just a touch of cynical humor rather than outright anger.  
  
"Now," Magnus went on, "if we could get down to business once again." He cleared his throat and regarded Remy with a more professional manner. "What you missed, Gambit, was the announcement of the possible return of what might have been the X-Men's greatest foe."  
  
"Tell me dey didn't let Paste-Pot Pete outta prison?!" he asked, feigning shock and horror.  
  
Magnus slammed his fist down suddenly on the conference table, causing everyone except Remy to jump slightly in their seats. "This. is. not. a. joke." His grey-blue eyes flashed with inner fire as he bit off every word, and Rogue reached over, laying a staying hand on Remy's arm, silently bidding him to be quiet.  
  
"What is it, den?" Remy asked in a much more calm tone, taking Rogues unspoken advice and curious despite himself.  
  
"It would seem that someone has come up with a way to resurrect a cosmic entity."  
  
He bit back his next sarcastic comment, opting instead to ask the obvious question. "What?"  
  
"You are familiar with the Phoenix?"  
  
Remy frowned, not understanding. "I'm familiar wit' Jean Grey. Or was…" he amended.  
  
"A cosmic entity called the Phoenix took Jean Grey's form many years ago, fashioning itself after her to such a degree, that it honestly believed it was Jean Grey. Unfortunately, the creature was of such power that could not withstand its mortal vessel. Picture a God contained within a mere human mind. The power was too great, and it drove itself insane, literally, by trying to contain its energy in a human body and mind. This creature destroyed a sun, and thereby all the planets within its system, one of them inhabited. In the end, it gained control of its sanity long enough to destroy its mortal vessel rather than continue the death and destruction it had caused. It was never truly Jean Grey, but it was her, in a sense, because it took all of her thoughts, beliefs, emotions and personality into itself."  
  
"Does no one ever tire of copying that woman?" Madelyne broke in with a sigh of disgust. "Just what the hell was so great about her anyway?"  
  
Bobby fixed her with a stony look, leaning forward in his seat. "When you figure that out, Madelyne, you just might become a worthwhile person."  
  
Magnus held up his hand, calling for silence and leaving Madelyne glowering angrily at Bobby. "The point here, is that we may have a creature capable of destroying entire galaxies on our hands."  
  
"May?" Remy asked. "We not sure yet?"  
  
"Storm received a call from a dubious source, but none of us can figure out a reason for such a deception. Storm's team of X-Men will be arriving here tomorrow, and then we shall take off for Southern California to investigate this further."  
  
"But what about our other mission?" Remy spoke up again, keeping his expression carefully neutral.  
  
"On hold, for now. Perhaps for good, depending on how this turns out."  
  
Completely baffled, Remy turned to glance at Rogue, wondering what her thoughts on the matter might be, but she seemed to have a burning question of her own.  
  
"You said the call came from a dubious source…who?"  
  
Magnus hesitated, as if inwardly debating before finally answering, "Sinister," and steeling himself for the confusion and flurry of questions that would surely follow.  
  
Heads turned back and forth to stare at each other in surprised silence for a long moment, and Magnus almost dared hope that they would simply be too surprised for words. Then the dam burst open and voices erupted from all around the room at once in a loud cacophony.  
  
And sitting quietly in her seat, Lorna muttered to herself, utterly unmindful of the Phoenix, Sinister, or the sudden discord around her, only having one definite thought on the matter. "Southern California?" she wrinkled her nose in disgust. "What a cesspool. Who in their right mind would set up shop there?"  
  
*           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *  
  
"Dr. Henry McCoy, at your service, my dear," the scientist proclaimed as he made a low, sweeping bow to his newest creation. She made not a sound or gesture in return, remaining in her comatose sleep, as ever, but it mattered not to him; she would wake soon enough. Right now, her mere existence was enough to make him want to clasp his hands together and dance lightly on his toes around the room. And finding that an appealing thought, he laced his fingers together and proceeded to do just that.  
  
*           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *  
  
Remy slipped out of the conference room amidst the ensuing chaos, letting himself out through one of the emergency exits to indulge in a little late afternoon sunshine and a cigarette. Leaning back against the cliff wall, he lit the slightly crumpled roll of tobacco and inhaled deeply, mulling over the events of the meeting.  
  
If what Magnus had said held true, they might never go after Sinister, and he could not abide by that thought. He couldn't go on living, each and every day, with the fear that Sinister would come for his children. And come for them he would; they stood to be even more powerful than any Summers offspring so far. Remy had been blind, or stupid, not to realize it years before. Even if the twisted geneticist could help them, Remy had no right to consign them to a life indebted to a monster.   
  
No, Sinister needed to be removed from the picture once and for all.  
  
That thought echoed in his head as he tossed away the dying ember of his cigarette, and long after the sun dipped below the horizon, growing louder and more insistent while he stood against the cliff wall, deep into the night.  
  



	11. TRG Chapter 10: Reunion

CHAPTER 10: REUNION  
  
Madelyne was in quite a rage when Remy made his way downstairs to the kitchen the next morning.   
  
"Don't you see that this is a red herring? Sinister is trying to throw us off his trail with this madly concocted tale! We need to go after the man himself!"  
  
Cringing slightly to avoid one of her expressively angry arm movements on his way to the fridge, he grabbed a carton of milk and quickly moved off to the cabinets on the far side of the room. Pouring himself a bowl of cereal and trying desperately to activate a latent mutant power of invisibility, he couldn't quite help but steal a look at Magnus' face, to see how he was taking the red-head's tirade.  
  
"You forget yourself, Madelyne," Magnus began in quiet tones, which spoke volumes to Remy of just how truly angry he was. Magnus was one of those people who talked more and more quietly the angrier he got until you worked him into a fit of rage, at which point he lost all self control and began speaking in the type of voice that made you imagine God coming down out of the sky with all the thunder and lightning of the heavens backing him up.  
  
"And you forget _your_self, old man!" Madelyne spat in return, her green eyes actually seeming to give off sparks. "The Magnus I remember wouldn't have dared hesitate to kill a potential adversary, and yet here you are, cowering in your precious little base, chasing after fairy tales spun by the very man who is your enemy!"  
  
"How very fortunate for you, then, Madelyne, that I am no longer that man," Magnus returned evenly, although his expression clearly said that she sorely tempted him to return to such ways of dealing with people. "You surely would have been dead already, if it were so."  
  
"Bah! You think you frighten me, old man?" She threw her arms in the air and laughed aloud. "I could flash-fry your synapses so fast you wouldn't even have time to smell the smoke, so don't threaten ME, Magnus."  
  
Remy briefly entertained the idea of crawling into one of the nearby cabinets for cover, but then decided he'd rather risk it and see what Magnus did to her. Besides, the coroner might need someone to identify her body.  
  
"Enough," Magnus said quietly, and with the smallest gesture of his hand called the magnetic elements of his birthright to his command, closing Madelyne's mouth and shoving her roughly into a chair. "Don't bother trying to retaliate, Madelyne; I am magnetically blocking your abilities out with the shield around my body. You have had your say, as uninvited and uninspired as it was, and now it is my turn."  
  
Remy nearly choked on his cereal with silent laughter at the comical expression on Madelyne's face.  
  
"When Sinister and I last met, it was as allies against Sebastian Shaw and his thrice-damned Sentinels. We parted on good terms and I have had no trouble with the man, until now. And I wonder, Madelyne, I truly do, at how much that has to do with your presence here." His eyes hard as steel, Magnus looked her over with an expression of such cold contemplation that her natural ivory complexion turned white as snow. "If what he says is true, and I cannot discount out of hand that it is not, then he is not at fault for any of the trouble we have recently experienced. Until I am certain, one way or another, that Sinister is lying, this team will NOT attack him. And if you feel the need to set out after him on your own, then I wish you the best of luck, my dear, but you will have neither my help, nor the help of anyone else who bears the name X-Man. And, there will be no further discussion on the matter until I say so. Is that clear?" Magnus finished his speech with a slight squeeze of magnetic power before releasing Madelyne to answer.  
  
Looking shaky, she nevertheless rose to her feet defiantly, thrusting her face directly into Magnus', no doubt about to say something that would cause him to disperse her into atoms, when Remy finally spoke up. "She has a point, Magnus."  
  
His sudden agreement seemed to send Madelyne into a shocked silence, while Magnus sighed heavily and cast his eyes heavenward, as if asking for strength, help, or the will not to kill both of them where they stood. "Et tu, Remy?" he asked in a resigned tone.  
  
"Look at it dis way, Magnus. Even if Sinister is telling de truth, we leavin' de base here and in New York undefended while we go check out his story. If dere's one t'ing I know about de man, it's dat he don't do anything unless dere's somet'in in it for him."  
  
"There is something in it for him," Magnus replied somewhat tiredly. "The fact that we will not hunt him down and kill him for what the Marauders did to Alpha Flight, if we discover that he is not responsible, as he claims."  
  
"Non, dat's not enough." Remy shook his head vehemently. "Sinister has defeated us time an' time again over de years. He's not worried bout what we might do to him. More likely, dis gives him a golden opportunity to come in an' raid de house while we gone."  
  
A faint smile touched Magnus' lips as he tried to imagine it. "And what could he possibly take that he does not already have? Our technology is nothing to him."  
  
Remy's eyes began to burn a deep, crimson red as he met Magnus' gaze evenly. "My family."  
  
*           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *  
  
Bobby was startled suddenly awake as the alarms in the base began blaring at top volume, nearly falling from his bed in his haste to waken and rise. Sliding across the floor in his bare feet, he didn't even think to throw on clothes in his half-asleep state, bursting through the door of his room and out into the hallway, where he almost ran right over top of Lorna.  
  
Still half-asleep, overly concerned by the alarms, and not yet realizing his state of undress, he managed to blurt out, "What the he—"  
  
Then the alarms died, along with his dignity.  
  
*           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *  
  
Kitty suspected the moment she heard the alarms that the other team of X-Men had just arrived, and had her suspicion confirmed a moment later when the announcement came over the speaker system mere seconds after the alarms were silenced. Still, she hadn't even made it all the way onto the landing deck to greet the newly arrived team when she heard the cry.  
  
"JEAN!"  
  
Shoving her through the crowd of X-Men before her, she burst into the hangar at a dead run, already having recognized the voice and what could have caused such an outcry from that person. She barely had time to grab Madelyne's arm and phase her before Logan's adamantium claws popped out, inches from the woman's throat.  
  
"Kitty?" Logan looked from one to the other, obviously confused. "What the blazes is going on here?"  
  
Putting her hand on Logan's arm to calm him and letting Madelyne's phased state drop, she drew a breath to explain. "This is—"  
  
"Madelyne Pryor," Madelyne purred, offering her hand to Logan. "So good to see you again, Wolverine." Then, turning and looking at Kitty with a deliberate smile, she unnecessarily explained, "We've met."  
  
*           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *  
  
"This is insanity," Storm proclaimed as shook her head, snowy tresses gliding back and forth over her shoulders. "Why were we not told?"  
  
"I did not realize it was necessary to check in with you every time I accepted a new teammate, Ororo," Magnus replied caustically.  
  
"You might have warned us, knowing that we were coming here." Storm said, no less incisively.  
  
"It seems that it must have slipped my mind, given that there has been one surprise or emergency or another constantly going on in this complex in recent weeks."  
  
"That's one heck o' a thing to go forgettin' about, Mags," Logan spoke up sharply. "If Kitty hadn'ta been there, I mighta cut her down on general principle, just fer lookin' like the Phoenix."  
  
Storm glanced at Logan, her expression giving voice to her otherwise silent concern. She, above all people, knew how Logan had felt about Jean, and though his reaction to Madelyne's appearance had been as swift as it was violent, she still wondered…if it had indeed been the Phoenix in Jean's image, would he have been able to follow through? She had never doubted Logan's abilities in the past…not even when he himself had doubted them, but in the case of Jean Grey, all of their reactions were questionable.  
  
"Fair enough." Magnus shrugged, replying to Logan's heated statement. "But we are not here to discuss the accuracy of my memory, are we?"  
  
"No, we are not," Storm agreed, still slightly angry with Magnus for not telling them, but wanting to let the subject drop. "And we can ill-afford to begin fighting amongst ourselves." She glanced about the room, taking in the gathering of X-Men milling around the room. "Illyana, Madelyne, the Marauders, Je— …the Phoenix." She shook her head again. "Has the whole world gone mad?"  
  
"Depends on how you look at it," spoke up a thickly accented voice that Storm recognized long before its owner pushed through the crowd. "Been an age, Stormy."  
  
"Not long enough, since I have been called that."  
  
With a lopsided grin, Remy swept her into a hard hug and turned to wink at Logan. "You been takin' care of her, old man?"  
  
Logan chuckled and chewed on his unlit cheroot. "Not quite as gooda care as you took o' her on that last caper in New Orleans a few years back."  
  
Remy put up his hands in a gesture of mock peace, grinning as he released Storm from his arms. "Hey, how was I to know dat de Brotherhood had set up shop in de Big Easy since last I was dere?"  
  
"You coulda opened yer fool eyes. Or asked."  
  
Remy shrugged in defeat and put his hands down, still grinning. "Hey, I still saved de lady in de end, brought her home safe an' sound to your ugly mug."  
  
"Yeah, but you wouldn't believe what I had ta listen to about yer—"  
  
"I do hate to break up this reunion," Magnus broke in, raising his voice to draw everyone's attention. "But we really should be getting down to business."  
  
"Always the voice of reason," Remy muttered as the room quieted and everyone moved to find their chairs for the briefing.  
  
"Didn't you know?" Madelyne asked as she took a chair behind Remy. "Magnus has traded being a terrorist for being a politician."  
  
Remy chuckled despite himself, and idly wondered which one of the two careers was worse.  
  
*           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *  
  
Kitty hugged Illyana warmly in goodbye, sighing as she straightened and stepped back. "It's really too bad you won't be going with us, 'Yana. It could be just like old times, when you were in the New Mutants and I used to get sucked into your adventures."  
  
Illyana chuckled at the memories, shaking her head. "It's probably just as well. There are still too many things I need to remember and adjust to, here. I'm not really a known quality yet."  
  
"But Magnus would have been happy to take you along if you hadn't insisted that you weren't ready for the mission."  
  
Shrugging, Illyana dipped her head from side to side, as if weighing the situation. "I just think it's smarter this way. Besides, I can help Gambit and Rogue with the kids, since they're staying behind as well."  
  
Kitty nodded reluctantly, accepting her friend's word. "It is a shame, though." She frowned then, a sudden thought occurring to her. "Do you really think Sinister would come here after the children while we're gone?"  
  
Illyana turned away from Kitty toward her simulated window, now showing the darkened desert blanketed by glittering stars. "I think he would do whatever it took to achieve his goal," she replied, folding her arms over her chest.  
  
Nodding again, though her friend could not see her, Kitty reached down to pick up the small bag she was taking with her on their trip. "It seems so obvious, though. I mean, Gambit already had it figured out."  
  
"Oh, you can bet that if Sinister does want the kids, he's figured out a way to do it that no one else could fathom, yet do it right under our noses."  
  
Kitty cast an odd look at her friend's back, wondering at the tone of her voice. She was about to ask her another question when Illyana abruptly changed the subject.  
  
"Have you found Lockheed, yet?"  
  
Shaking her head regretfully, Kitty sighed. "No. He's probably hiding out somewhere, pouting because I've been too busy to give him any attention lately. If you see him while I'm gone…"  
  
"I'll take care of him," Illyana agreed to the unfinished question without turning around.  
  
"Thanks. Okay, I gotta run, 'Yana. Take care, and we'll be back soon." She slung her bag over her shoulder and cast one last glance at her friends back before opening the door.  
  
"You, too, Kitty. See you soon."  
  
"Bye, 'Yana." She turned the knob and was about to step out of the room when Illyana spoke again.  
  
"Kitty…" she hesitated for a moment, as if debating whether or not to say anything, then turned and looked at her friend earnestly. "In case something goes wrong while you're on your mission, in case I don't get the chance to tell you again….you're the best friend I ever had….you're the only person outside of my family who's ever gone to the wire for me….I love you like my sister, and no matter what ever happens, I need you to know that."  
  
Kitty dropped her bag and grabbed Illyana in an impulsive hug. "Of course I know that, silly," she said softly, and then with a confidence she didn't quite feel, "And don't you worry. We're the X-Men; of course we'll make it back okay."  
  
Illyana simply nodded into her friend's shoulder, and Kitty couldn't see the tears brimming in her eyes.  
  
*           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *  
  
Logan sighed and puffed hard on his cheroot, ignoring the cold wind coming in off the desert.  
_  
Oh, Jeannie…will you never rest in peace, darlin'?_ he wondered as he stared up into the stars. _I couldn't kill the Phoenix years ago, when I thought she was you…and in a way, she was you. More you than Madelyne will ever be. She had your spirit, your fire, your nobility…she lived and breathed as you. She sacrificed her life to save the world, just like you woulda done. And back then, when I believed she really was you, part of me died with her that day on the moon. A part that sprang to life with joy when we found out you were still alive. I never told you how much I loved you, Jeannie, but you always knew, even without your telepathy ta tell you. And now you're gone, eight years in your grave, and I still miss you every day…this hollow ache in my heart won't ever die. You're gone, and now the Phoenix, the only creature made in your image that ever really possessed anything good in you, is back. I've seen you die so many times, darlin', in so many different incarnations…will I be able to watch you die again? Will I be able to kill you myself this time, if I have to?_  
  
He sighed again and threw his cheroot into the wind, watching as it was carried off into the night, a bright glowing flame against the backdrop of the stars. The image reminded him again of the Phoenix, and he closed his eyes tightly, finding no answers to his questions as a beautiful face framed by fiery hair filled his mind.  
  



	12. TRG Chapter 11: Old Habits

CHAPTER 11: OLD HABITS  
  
"I'm going with you," Siryn said stubbornly, placing her hands on her hips and meeting Magneto's angry gaze without backing down an inch.  
  
"Theresa, you are still not well," he said, as if the matter were settled with that one statement and turned away toward the door.  
  
"Just as you were not well when you joined the X-Men and led the New Mutants," she shot back, walking around, stopping in front of him and blocking his path through the doorway. "I never saw Magneto take as many hits as you did when you were with the teams. You weren't fully healed from your battle when Warlock destroyed Asteroid M, it took you over a year to come back, and still you never stopped fighting. Can you expect me to do any less?"  
  
Magnus felt his resolve slipping as he met Siryn's eyes fully and saw the fire of determination burning within her. There was a reason he had always felt kinship with this girl…woman, he mentally corrected himself. She, too, had been led astray in her quest for heroism, followed down the wrong path, and made her way back time and time again. In the years following his finding of her and her return to the team, the kinship between them had deepened into something much more… a familial bond, of sorts. She had needed someone to look up to, to lean on for guidance so badly then…the loss of her father, uncle, lovers, team, and everyone she had ever been close to had left her as alone as a frightened child.   
  
Just as alone and confused after his possession by the Shadow King, he had been looking for a bond, something to hold him and give him a place in this new world, something to help him identify himself again. His team of X-Men had been shaping up well, but the feeling of family that had always been integral to the X-Men was lacking for him, as it always had in the past. Siryn's demon had been alcohol, and she had given herself over to it completely after the Shadow King war, no less so than Magnus himself had given himself over to his insanity after Auschwitz. For her, he knew it was a constant battle against her addiction, but he himself had finally gotten lucky, if one could call it that. When Rogue had shoved Psylocke's stolen psi-blade into his mind, she had not only separated the Shadow King from Magnus, but she had set right in his mind whatever psychosis had possessed him, prior to that. Still, he hadn't been whole…he'd always felt alone, even when surrounded by the X-Men, even when he had been friends with Charles…the emotional bonds in his life had been sorely lacking since Magda had left him. So he had brought Siryn home, helped her kill her demons, and they had, strangely enough, each provided what the other needed.   
  
It was strange to Magnus, when he thought about it. All of his surviving children had turned their backs on him at every opportunity…not that he supposed he could really blame them, after what he had put them through. But that this woman, who was no blood of his own and had fought against him on more than one occasion, could look up to him as an almost parental figure and respect him… it never ceased to fill him with a sense of pride that he imagined only a child of ones own could give. The kind of feeling he might have gotten from Pietro and Wanda, had he not been consumed by insanity at the time he met them. It was far too late, he knew, to repair the damage with them. Pietro had died virtually at Magnus' own hands when he had been possessed by the Shadow King, and Wanda had never forgiven him for either his treatment of her when she was younger, nor for his part in her brother's death. But with Theresa, he felt he had been given a second chance at fatherhood. His natural instinct was to protect her, keep as far from this battle as possible, but he could not deny her the path that he himself followed, no matter if he liked it or not. Besides, indomitable will was another thing they shared in common, and he knew that even if he stood solid on his decision, she would find a way to get around it. That, and he often found that he could deny her nothing.  
  
"Not to mention," Theresa continued, not realizing that she had already won the argument, "I want to get to the bottom of just what exactly happened at the Alpha Flight base as much as you do. They were your friends, and students to a degree, but they were in MY care, under MY leadership when they died, and I'll see the person who did this to them dead before I rest." She folded her arms over her chest and drew her chin up defiantly, as if daring him to contradict her.  
  
Magnus nodded once, holding back the faint smile that her expression inspired, once again struck by how odd it was that he should feel so fatherly toward her even though she had been a full-grown woman when he had taken her in. There was something so childishly charming about her to his aging eyes, and it had gotten right under his skin and into his heart, years ago. "Very well, Theresa. Get suited up. But you will stay as far from the fighting as possible unless we absolutely need you, on my order. Understood?"  
  
"Understood," she returned with a salute, then smiled.  
  
Magnus shook his head and watched her go, as unhappy with placing her in danger, as he was happy that she would be at his side during the coming, almost certain battle.  
  
*           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *  
  
Wanda sighed as she saw her father's face come into view behind the X-Men teams filing into the docking bay, wishing that she had stayed behind in New York. It made her very uncomfortable to be here, in the presence of the man who had done little more than impregnate her mother and made her life a kind of living hell for most of her youth. Certainly, she had heard Moira's theories years ago on Magnus' insanity, but the facts, if they even were facts, had little bearing on her feelings toward the man after the years of torment he had inflicted on her and her brother. She didn't hate him, exactly…he had certainly come a long way since his recovery of being possessed by the Shadow King. In many ways, he was now a man she had never even known; a man she would have liked to get to know, had the wounds they had inflicted on one another over the years not made the distance between them unbreachable. Yes, she had overcome her fear of her father many years ago, but the oldest hurts still remained, and contact with him was no less painful now than it had been in the past. She wanted desperately to be anywhere but here.  
  
A hand fell on her shoulder, and she turned, startled from her thoughts. "Oh, Lasher," she smiled at the younger man, her teammate and friend of many years.  
  
The slight frown he wore did not lessen as she smiled, if anything, his concern seemed to heighten. "Something's troubling you, Wanda…" he said, leaving the statement open for her to finish.  
  
She shrugged lightly, ducking her head away, red-brown hair obscuring her features as she answered. "It's nothing, really."  
  
Lasher's gaze traveled over the room briefly, coming to rest on a man he had only just been formally introduced to, the same man Wanda had been watching with a troubled expression a moment before. "It's Magnus, isn't it," he asked with such finality that it almost wasn't even a question.  
  
"My _father_," she replied, speaking the word with sarcastic emphasis.  
  
Lasher nodded silently, his eyes still on Magnus as Wanda spoke, studying the man carefully. He had noticed the mans seeming lack of compassion, and that he rarely wore more than a frown to express himself. Yet his eyes did not differ from anyone else's in the way that they gave voice to the soul, so Lasher had taken to watching the mans eyes for reaction. And so it was that he was the only one who caught the look of pained longing Magnus gave Wanda as he passed her by, the same look he had been giving her since their arrival here.   
  
"He still cares for you," he said after a moment.  
  
Wanda fairly snorted with disdain. "Sure he does. That must be why he's tried so hard to be a good father all these years."  
  
Lasher licked his lips, feeling his tongue grate against the texture of his skin like stone on stone, trying to gauge how to best phrase his next statement. "Wanda…you know I think you're one of the bravest, smartest women I've ever known. You've always represented what's best in a hero, to me…" he trailed off, wrestling with the next words.  
  
Wanda eyed him skeptically, waiting for him to continue.   
  
"…which makes what I'm about to say that much harder." He forced himself to meet her gaze as he continued. "For a woman so brave and wise, you seem to be so afraid and close-minded when it comes to your father. I know it is not my place to say so," he added hurriedly as he saw her anger rise up suddenly. "But I believe the man deserves another chance. He has done nothing but try to make up for his past mistakes since he was released from the Shadow King's thrall. I have read his file…I know what he's done in the past, and I know that he has tried to atone for it more than once. I believe him at heart to be a good man, albeit one who was misguided and affected by an emotional disorder."  
  
Wanda stared at Lasher in shock, hardly able to believe the words she'd heard come from his mouth. Then, her anger rapidly catching up and overtaking her, she found the voice to respond. "You know NOTHING of him, of what he did to me, to my brother. You have no right to even speak of such things, much less in his defense."  
  
"Wanda…" once again, he struggled for words. "Please understand…I don't say these things for him, but for you. Because you are my friend, and this is a wound you have carried too long without healing."  
  
"What he has done to me is beyond healing, Jonathon. If you understand nothing else, understand that."  
  
He lowered his head in defeat, having hoped to reach her with this tactic without angering her. He had known better, really, but they had been so close for so long, and he had watched her wrestle with the demons of her father and all the words they had left unspoken over the years, for far too long. She needed to find inner peace, some sort of balance with this situation, or it might eventually consume her and eat her alive. He had seen it happen to others, during his childhood in the Morlock tunnels, and he would not see it happen to her, would not let it happen to her without a fight. "You need to forgive him, Wanda, need to forgive yourself. You'll never be happy until you do."  
  
"My brother is dead because of that man," she spat bitterly. "I can never forgive him that."  
  
"And yet, he would not have existed without that man, either. He's not a machine, Wanda. He may not have been much of a father, but he IS a father, and the loss of a child is something that no parent ever truly recovers from. Now imagine that you are that parent and you are the cause of your own child's death, even though you were not in control of your mind at the time. Could you ever forgive _yourself_ for that?"  
  
"It's never seemed to bother him a bit."  
   
Lasher noted with relief that her anger seemed to be fading a bit, hopefully having burned itself out or at least been distracted by his argument. "Why don't you ask him?"  
  
Wanda stared at him as if he had suggested stripping naked and throwing herself from the top of a building. "Why don't YOU ask him?" she retorted hotly.  
  
"I would…if he were MY father," Lasher replied without hesitation, keeping his eyes fixed on hers.  
  
Wanda's gaze slipped from his, coming to rest on the floor as she replied quietly, "He's never bothered asking me anything, why should I?"  
  
"Because you both believe that neither of you will ever accept the other, and he has much more reason to believe that. He knows what he did to you and your brother was wrong, and he is ashamed of it. If he were not, he would not have looked at you like he did just now, he would not have respected your space and left you alone all these years since his recovery. He longs for your forgiveness, but he cannot come to you and ask for it, expecting to receive it. That's something that you must give freely."  
  
Wanda squinted at him in silence, as if sizing up his words. He seemed to believe what he was saying so much, as if it were the absolute truth. She'd always known Lasher was an idealist, a romantic of sorts, but he sounded so sure of himself, so passionate. "Do you have some sort of empathic power I'm unaware of?"  
  
"No," he smiled. "But I do watch people, you know that. I like to study them…and I did study psychology for a few years back home at the school." He shrugged. "What can it hurt to try, Wanda? You might find the father you always wanted."  
  
"Or I might just stick out my hand and get it chopped off, like every other time in my life."  
  
Lasher shrugged again, still smiling as he turned to board the Blackbird jet, throwing his last piece of advice over his shoulder. "Wear gauntlets."  
  
Wanda smiled darkly at the comment, then boarded the jet behind him, muttering beneath her breath. "You can bet your stony butt that if I did follow your advice, I'd be wearing an entire _suit_ of armor."  
  
*           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *  
  
"Pardon me, sir, but is this seat taken?" Lorna asked without waiting for an answer as she sat down in the seat next to Bobby.  
  
"Why no, it isn't," he joked back, slightly taken off-guard but glad that they were finally returning to their light-hearted banter.  
  
They sat in silence for a few minutes as everyone settled in and the jet took off from the docking bay. Once they had achieved their altitude and leveled off, Lorna turned to Bobby with a much more serious look, her smooth, joking polish of moments ago completely gone. "Bobby…" she ran a hand through her hair rather nervously, smoothing it back from her face, hesitating as she searched for the right words. "We've been treating each other with kid-gloves for a couple of days now, and I think it's kind of silly, really. We've been friends for so long…I just wanted to say that I'm sorry for what happened in the med-lab the other day. I should have never—"  
  
"No, I'm the one who's sorry, Lorna," Bobby broke in. "I got carried away by memories and let myself slip. I should have been more responsible than that."  
  
"Responsible for both of us?" she asked with just a touch of ire, though her smile softened the question.  
  
"No…I didn't mean to presume to be responsible for you, too…" he struggled for a few seconds more, then chuckled slightly. "Look, here we go, getting all tangled again. Can't we just chalk it up to being melancholy and let it go at that? I hate feeling awkward around you."  
  
She hesitated for just a moment before nodding. "Of course we can. We've been friends too long to let a little thing like this get in the way." She paused again, eyeing him uncertainly, then asked slowly, as if gauging the words, "It's not like anything would have come from it, anyway, right?"  
  
Too embarrassed by the subject to meet her gaze, he completely missed the intensity she was watching him with, waiting for his reply, completely missed the turmoil of emotion in her eyes. All he heard were the words themselves, the words that confirmed his own feelings; "nothing would have come from it anyway". He'd expected the blow, though that didn't make it hurt any less…expected it so much that he missed the question beneath the question of her words.   
  
"Right," he replied, nodding his head in agreement.  
  
"Right," she said again, rising from her seat rather abruptly.  
  
He finally turned to look at her with raised brows. "You going somewhere? You just got here."  
  
"I…have to help Magnus go over some of the maps we found…I just wanted to get all this straightened out with you before we got into battle."  
  
He nodded again, wishing that she would lift her head just a little, brush back the strands of fine green hair from her eyes so that he could see them, and smile at him. Then he shook his head to rid himself of such thoughts, knowing that they would get him nothing except more hurt and endanger their friendship once again. "Well, I'm glad you did," he said with a genuine smile, and in a way, he was. At least it wouldn't impede their communication anymore.  
  
"Yeah…me, too," she nodded, then hesitated for a few seconds before moving on down the aisle.  
  
Bobby and sighed and threw his head back against the high-backed seat, feeling both relieved and more frustrated at the same time.  
  
"So what's the deal with you two?" came a sly voice from behind Bobby's head, startling him so badly that he literally jumped up out of his seat.  
  
"Thank God it's only you, Alison. You nearly gave me a heart attack."  
  
"Yeah?" she asked with a grin as she kneeled up on her seat and rested her chin on the back of his chair, looking down at him. "Well I'm gonna tell the whole ship what I saw if you don't come clean."  
  
He sighed again. "Lorna and I…we almost ended up…well, kissing in the med-lab the other day."  
  
"And this is a tragedy?" she asked, arching one brow.  
  
"No…I mean yes….well, not really. Ah hell…I don't know," he said defeatedly.  
  
Alison Blaire chuckled at her friend's confusion, recognizing it all too well. "You're in love again, you poor sucker."  
  
"Well…I guess you could say that…but I've always loved Lorna, to a degree. It's just gotten stronger since we've been on the new team together."  
  
"I see that. And I'd daresay it's mutual."  
  
"You're crazy," he said, staring at her as if he believed what he had just said was true.  
  
"And you, my old friend, are a blockhead, as usual," she replied, not unkindly as she shook her head. "It's so plain a blind man could see it. Listen to the two of you: 'Oh, I'm so sorry' 'No, I'm the one who's sorry', falling all over each other in your anxiety. It's a classic case of love."  
  
"No way. Maybe for me, but not for her. I mean Lorna was involved with Captain America…what could she possibly see in an immature guy like me after being with an icon like that?"  
  
"You just summed it up right there, chump," she smiled, punching him lightly on the shoulder. "Cap's an icon, you're a man. He's a soldier, and soldiers tend to be more devoted to their job than to anything, or anyone else."  
  
"I just can't see it," he said, slinking down further in his chair.  
  
"You don't have to, Bobby. Just do something about it. If you two keep going the way you are, you're gonna let it slip right by you. I don't think I need to tell you what a precious commodity love is on this planet, these days."  
  
"You really believe that, Dazz?  
  
"You betcha."  
  
"Then why haven't you ever…" he let the question trail off, not wanting to bring up painful memories. Longshot had been dead a long time, but then, so had Angelica, and it still hurt whenever Bobby thought about her.  
  
"Fallen in love again?" she asked, finishing up the question.  
  
"Um…yeah…."  
  
"I almost did, once, several years ago…but he was in love with someone else already," she said, a bit wistfully.  
  
"Really?" he sat upright in his chair again, his curiosity piqued. "You never told me about him…"  
  
"Oh, he was really wonderful…sweet guy, biggest brown eyes you ever saw, gentle, kind, giving, great sense of humor. Sometimes he was a bit rash, but that made him all the more captivating, somehow. He was so alive…"  
  
"So if he was so great, how come you never mentioned him until now? I thought we were supposed to be best buds?" he asked, feeling a little betrayed by her silence all this time.  
  
"Because he was you, blockhead," she said with a gentle smile.  
  
He stared at her speechless, a million things running through his mind, at least a thousand of them he wanted to say, but all he could do was stare at her.  
  
"So don't play the waiting game, old buddy, old pal, old friend of mine, because if you're too afraid to make that first step, someone else will come along and steal her heart." She gave him a last smile and squeezed his shoulder affectionately before slipping back down into her seat and out of view.  
  
Bobby spent the rest of the two-hour trip in total silence.  
  
*           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *  
  
Magnus spent most of the flight in silence as well, occasionally checking in with Kitty to make sure their flight path was continuing unhampered. The sky was gathering black clouds quickly, the further south they went, and Magnus mused rather ironically that there was indeed, a storm coming.  
  
Gathered on the jet were some of the finest fighters alive; Wolverine, Storm, Iceman, Polaris, the Scarlet Witch, Shadowcat, Colossus, Dazzler, Siryn, Lasher, himself…his eyes roved over all of them in the main cabin. Some of the finest fighters alive, he was honored to fight alongside and even lead them, and yet…he wondered. What could any of them, even combined, hope to do against a cosmic force of nature like the Phoenix?  
  
Outside, lightning flashed and thunder bellowed distantly, a deep booming voice that seemed to echo Magnus' thoughts of despair.  
  



	13. TRG Chapter 12: Awakenings

CHAPTER 12: AWAKENINGS  
  
Rogue was delightfully surprised as she made her way downstairs for dinner. Having thought to grab a snack in the kitchen, she stopped just short of her goal in the dining room, taking in the scene that greeted her.   
  
The large wooden table at the center of the room was covered in a lace cloth and adorned with candles, all of the chairs missing except for two right at the very head. There was a place setting before each chair; china plates and what looked like real silverware, with crystal wineglass set to the side. A smile curving her lips, she folded her arms across her chest and shook her head.  
  
"You like, cherie?" asked a rather smug sounding Remy as he emerged from the kitchen with two extremely large lobsters on a silver tray.  
  
"Ah like, very much," Rogue agreed, her smile broadening as she moved toward one of the chairs. "But Ah don't even wanna know where you got real lobsters from out here the middle of the desert."  
  
Smiling, Remy placed a finger to his lips and winked, setting down the tray between their plates.  
  
Rogue grinned, shook her head again, and couldn't quite keep herself from asking, "And the silverware?"  
  
"Chere, please," Remy did his best to look offended. "Not all thieves steal silverware. Dat's just in de movies. Besides, dis guy owed me, fair and square."  
  
"And why do Ah think he didn't pay up willingly?" she asked.  
  
Remy swept a cloth napkin into her lap and leaned in, kissing her softly on the lips. "I'll be right back with de rest of de food."  
  
"That's what I thought," she chuckled and watched him re-enter the kitchen.  
  
A few minutes later, their plates were filled, and Rogue had to admit it was the best meal she'd had in years. Everyone usually took turns cooking for the team, and there was rarely time to make anything so extravagant. "So to what do Ah owe the pleasure of this dinner?" she asked, starting in on her second glass of wine.  
  
"Well, with de team gone and Illyana keepin' an eye on de little ones, I figured you an' me were long past due for some quality time."  
  
"It has been a while, hasn't it?" she asked with a mild chuckle as she sipped from her wineglass. "Between being parents and part of a super-hero team, we've rarely had any time to ourselves."  
  
"Exactly what I thought, petite," he replied with a wink.  
  
"But there's something more, isn't there?" she asked with just a touch of sadness. "This is wonderful Remy, but I can't help but feel something is out of place."  
  
He lowered his head, staring into the depths of his wineglass intently. "And what makes you t'ink dat, ma chere?"  
  
Rogue shook her head to clear away the dizzying feeling that overtook her before replying, "You've been acting strange ever since Magnus told us about the twins…"  
  
He nodded, not replying as he refilled her empty wineglass.  
  
"And…?" she asked as she lifted the glass to her lips.  
  
"And… I _have_ been feelin' odd lately, chere. You know as well as I do that dis de perfect opportunity for Sinister to come and take de children. He's even set it up perfectly."  
  
She nodded, wondering how the wine had gone to her head so quickly. "Ah do, Remy. An Ah know how you feel about him….but Ah still don't understand why you think he'd come after Irinee' and Jean-Luc after all this time."  
  
"Because dey at de perfect age for him to exploit," he said bitterly. "Chere…you know well as I do how he chased after Scott and Jean's children forever while dey was alive. Our children stand to be even more powerful. What do you t'ink he would do?"  
  
Rogue stared quietly down at her plate for a long time before answering. "Ah think you're probably right, Remy….but what can we do about it?"  
  
"Nothing," he answered emphatically, his eyes never leaving hers. "Nothing, so long as we jus' sit here and wait."  
  
"And you think there's a better option?" she asked, struggling to keep her eyes focused on his.  
  
"I do," he nodded. "I t'ink Sinister need taking out before he even get de chance to get at our children."  
  
"And you think we can do this together? Even with the X-Men at our side?" she sounded desperate for hope, and her voice tugged at Remy's heart.  
  
"Non," he replied, taking the negative stance again. "The X-Men refuse to, without good cause, an' you, ma chere," he reached across the table and took her chin in his hand. "You are far too precious t' risk against such a monster."  
  
"Remy," she slurred, trying to get the words out as best she could. "You know Ah'll always stand at your side, no matter what."  
  
"I know, chere," he nodded solemnly, leaning across the table to kiss her gently. "An' dat's why I can't let you. De children…dey goin' to need you if anything happens to me…you goin' to have to protect them if my gambit," he nearly choked at the play on words, "fails."  
  
"Remy…what're you talking about?" she asked, jerking her face violently from his hands. "There's no way in hell Ah'm letting you go after him alone!  
  
Again, he nodded. "I know, chere…dat's why I drugged de wine. Enough in dere to poison an elephant….figured it should be more dan enough for you…."  
  
Her face betrayed a number of emotions…shock, horror, rage, and even, Remy thought, understanding. "Remy, no…," she whispered, reaching out to him even as she fell back into her chair.  
  
"Oh, ma chere," he shook his head, grimacing as he rose to catch her, holding her carefully in his arms. He hated this, having to deceive her in such a way, to trick her as he had tricked so many in his life. His heart welled up almost painfully with emotion, aching in his chest, feeling as if it might burst with love and sorrow. "If dere were any other way, I'd do it in a heartbeat. But I love you, an' our children far too much to leave dis avenue open. Sinister has to go down, an' I t'ink I know de way…"  
  
"But what if you don't, Remy?" she asked, struggling to focus on the words. "Ah _need_ you…Irinee' and Jean-Luc _need_ you…without you, what'll happen to us?"  
  
He wiped the tears tenderly from her cheek, knowing she no longer had the strength to do so. He felt her pain as poignantly as he felt his own…he wanted nothing more than to carry her up to their room, kiss her tears away and make love to her until everything was right again between them. He wanted to ignore it as blissfully as he had ignored everything else in his life. But that could never happen as long as Sinister was still in the picture….not for him.  
  
"Ma chere…," he whispered hoarsely, leaning in to kiss her neck gently. "I love you as I have no other, an' as I will never love again…more even, dan I love our children…an' dat's why I'm willing to take dis chance for you, for dem. 'Cause you mean more to me dan anythin' else in dis world, an' I'll never see Sinister take dat away." He caressed her hair, smoothing it back from her face, gazing upon its beauty and taking his fill, as if it were for the last time, and indeed, he knew it might be. Her emerald green eyes, the fine line of her jaw, feminine, but so strong, the auburn hair that curled around her delicate face…she was the most beautiful creature he had ever known. "Understand… I do dis for US, not me." He searched her eyes desperately for some modicum of understanding, knowing that the mist fogging his vision had nothing to do with the small bit of wine he had ingested.  
  
Her consciousness fading, she reached out vainly with one hand, caressing his cheek for a brief moment, until it fell uselessly at her side. "Ah love you Remy…..Ah'm so scared…please…don't….don't…." she gasped, her body finally giving way to the drug and collapsing into oblivion.  
  
He winced at her words, tears welling up behind his eyes. "An' I love you…but I cannot do otherwise, ma chere," he whispered, knowing she was already gone. "God knows I don't want to leave you, leave the children. I'm scared t'death of what awaits me on the road ahead. But if you remember nothing else tonight, remember dat I love you here and now, and will into whatever lies beyond. I'll always be with you…always." Pulling her body close to his, he hugged her tightly, kissing her still lips with more passion than he had known in years. Then, he gathered her in his arms and carried her up the stairs to their room.  
  
*           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *  
  
Remy LeBeau slipped out into the night, feeling more like a coward than a hero as he made his way from the grounds. He felt like a fool for leaving Rogue as he did, and he knew that when she woke up in the morning, he would be lucky if she ever even spoke to him again, much less love him. He only hoped she could understand that what he was doing was needed…that he was doing it for them. Magnus didn't seem to feel the same urgency as Remy…and if he had it his way, the X-Men would never go after Sinister without good reason. He had said as much, right to Remy's face. But if any among them knew Sinister, it was Remy. He had been bound to the man body and soul, once, and he had sworn it would never happen again. His children didn't have that choice…in fact, they had even less of a choice, considering the danger of their eventual powers. He was a man with one purpose; to remove the one man who could destroy everything he had worked so hard to gain in his life.   
  
He saw no other path to his goal than removing that obstacle, and God be damned if there were another way. And so, he ignored the knife of pain that stabbed deep into his heart at leaving everything he knew and loved behind, knowing full well that he might never make it back to them again. Mentally wincing, he leaned forward as he made his way into the night, one hand rising to his chest as if to stave off the ache he felt there, trying desperately to push it aside and focus on his objective. He needed to look at this like he had looked at so many things in his life; a job that needed doing, and concentrating on the reasons for following through with it would bring him nothing but uncertainty and grief. 

Sinister deserved death more than anyone else Remy had ever known, and his crimes against humanity and mutant alike were enough to sign his death warrant, much less what he could do to Remy's children, given the chance. He could just see the monster hovering over them, healing the damage their powers would do and all the while bending them to his will. And considering Sinister was the best hope his children had at this point, would he truly rather see them dead than indebted to such a man? Damned right he would. Sinister had never brought him anything but pain and heartache, no matter what he had gained from his alliance with the twisted geneticist. This was about his children more than anything else, but Remy also had a personal score to settle, and once again, common sense be damned. It was long past time that all debts were paid in full.  
  
*           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *  
  
"'Yana?" asked Jean-Luc, pensively. "Can we go see Mommy and Daddy before we go to bed?"  
  
"'Yana… why are you crying?" he asked a moment later.  
  
"Because I don't have a choice, once again in my life," she answered, cryptically.  
  
"What?" he asked, looking at his sister to see if she understood what Yana had just said, but Irinee' looked just as confused as he did.  
  
"I'm sorry," she sobbed. "But if I don't, I'm as good as dead."  
  
Jean-Luc didn't understand the depth of Illyana's words, but he understood the fear and pain behind them. "Mommy and Daddy always say we have a choice…" he thought long and hard, trying to remember the rest of the words, but forgot totally what he had been saying as a white-hot disc of light appeared before him.  
  
"Your Mommy and Daddy never dealt with Sinister, then," she said sadly as she swept them into the teleportation disc and disappeared.  
  
*           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *  
  
Madelyne felt it long before they landed in Southern California…a primal existence on the psi-plane that was so powerful it threatened to overwhelm all of her senses. She had trained long and hard to perfect her powers, but this…she had been completely unprepared for this!  
  
Her head thrashed violently against the upholstery of the Blackbird seat, waves of power seeping from her head in incoherent patterns. She barely noticed when Magnus rushed to her side, asking what was wrong.  
  
*           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *  
  
In what was left of New York City, a man named Joey suddenly found himself thinking of a girl he had gone to high school with many years earlier. She had been a captivating girl, Jean Grey…there was something special about her that defied all description…he'd had a mad crush on her for many years, all the way up until her final death in the war, years ago. He bit down on his lower lip and stared at the campfire in the shelter camp, wondering why he had thought of her just now, after all these years….  
  
*           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *  
  
Elizabeth Strauss had overcome many of the hardships of the mutant war, managing to keep her brownstone apartment in one piece, despite the recent Sentinel invasion of her native city of Chicago. Thus, it was a surprise to the refugees from the human camp that tended to hang out in the alley below her apartment, when she threw open the window to her room, crying out "ALIVE! I'm ALIVE!" and threw herself to the concrete street below…  
  
*           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *  
  
In the city of Orlando, Florida, Andy Blackford shivered in ecstasy as he thought of soaring blissfully through the stars, at one with the entire cosmos…  
  
*           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *  
  
In a reclusive camp in Ohio, John and Elaine Grey found themselves thinking of their long-dead daughter Jean, her pealing laughter an almost haunting sound within their minds…  
  
*           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *  
  
And so it was, across the world, each person suddenly touched by a consciousness, a feeling of emotion not quite their own, united as one for a brief moment in time as a voice cried out in rapture, born again in the ecstasy of life and love.  
  
*           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *  
  
And then, the Phoenix opened her eyes.  
  
*           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *  
  
Sinister smiled in satisfaction as Illyana teleported in with the two children. "Very good, my pet," he acknowledged, and then seemed to forget that she existed as he examined the frightened faces before him.  
  
"You're a bad man," Irinee' proclaimed, rather profoundly for a six year old, cuddling close against her brother for strength.  
  
"Not at all," Sinister contradicted. "I am the best friend you will ever have. You may call me…'father'".  
  
"We already got a daddy," Jean-Luc said solemnly.  
  
"You'll soon forget all about that," Sinister said, the rarest of joyous smiles touching his cold face.  
  
And then all hell broke loose.  
  
*           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *             
  
"What the hell is going on?!" Magnus bellowed to the cabin, even as he grabbed Madelyne's tongue between his fingers to prevent her from choking to death.  
  
*           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *  
"What the hell is going on?!" Sinister bellowed as the two children before him collapsed into convulsions. Fixing Illyana with a murderous stare, he admonished, "If you have any part in this, I'll have more than your soul, Darkchilde."  
  
Illyana shook her head in fear, not understanding in the slightest what was happening. "It's not me, master."  
  
"Then the Gods be damned…he's succeeded in his quest." He turned away without another word, already reaching for the equipment that would carry him through this crisis.  
  
*           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *  
  
Remy didn't have the slightest idea what was happening as he felt a consciousness brush briefly against his soul, but he knew that he suddenly felt filled with power, as if he could do anything, accomplish anything. Pulling back on the handles of his motorcycle, he roared ever faster into the night.  
  
*           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *  
  
"Logan…what is it, my love?" Storm asked in anguish, feeling completely lost as her lovers head dropped hopelessly into his hands.  
  
"It's Jeannie, 'Ro. An' God help us all, she's awake."  
  
*           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *  
  
And in the mind of Madelyne Pryor, as with so many across the globe, one word rang out in hope of supplication.  
  
"SCOTT!"  
  
Madelyne would have choked with laughter if she hadn't already been choking on her own tongue. _Out of luck, sweetie_, she sent across the psi-plane. _He's been dead for a LOOOONG time….just like you…_

  
*           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *  
  
Sinister could feel it just as strongly as everyone else, now, now that he knew what to look for. Irinee' and Jean-Luc LeBeau sat complacently before him, metal bands twined around their small heads, blocking out most of the resonance of power the Phoenix was putting out. He had exactly what he had wanted, now, but did he have the time to do anything with it?  
  
He hoped, perhaps for the first and last time in his life, that the X-Men would prove victorious this day…  
  
*           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *  
  
Dr. Henry McCoy danced joyously as his latest creation sprang suddenly to life.  
  
"SCOTT!" she screamed, from the depths of her lungs and soul.  
  
And though it wasn't what he had hoped to hear, he thought that was just fine…just fine, oh yes.  
  



	14. TRG Chapter 13: Trial By Fire

CHAPTER 13: TRIAL BY FIRE  
  
Rogue hadn't even fully awakened before she knew something was definitely, inherently wrong. The house was quiet, far too quiet for this hour of the morning. Placing a hand to her groggy head, she moaned in pain and sat up.  
  
And then the memories came rushing back, filling the gaping hole in her mind with a speed that almost sent her spinning back into unconsciousness.  
  
Remy! Remy was gone! She leaped from their bed, losing her balance and crashing hard into the night table beside it. Undeterred, her invulnerability keeping her from feeling anything, she arose from the wreckage in a panic. Remy had gone after Sinister…and the children. The children! That was what was missing. There was no sound from the outer rooms, no squeals of delight, or peals of laughter to break the morning's silence.  
  
Rushing from her room, she took off straight down the hall toward Illyana's room in a frenzy.  
  
*           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *  
  
They could all feel the presence as they landed in California, like a force of nature, beyond all reason, beyond all comprehension, beyond all human grasp of emotion. If not for their hard years of mental training as X-Men, they would have been swept away totally by it, even drawn into it, like moths to the flame, so close to the source.  
  
"Siryn, you stay behind with Madelyne," Magnus ordered as they exited the jet.  
  
Siryn looked down with more than a little trepidation at the woman being submitted to her care. She wasn't positive, but she was pretty sure that this bluish tone wasn't the woman's natural color.  
  
*           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *  
  
Flames rose about her form as Henry McCoy looked on…he thought it was perhaps the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. A nimbus of fire that completely surrounded her statuesque body in the form of wings, like an angel straight from heaven, or hell, depending on which version you subscribed to. He was so enraptured by her beauty and his own success, he had no fear for his own life in her presence.  
  
His mistake.  
  
*           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *  
  
Magnus was taken aback by the sight that greeted him within the derelict complex. He had never personally gone up against the Phoenix, though he had certainly read and heard enough about her. But none of it described the majestic presence of such a creature. Watching Henry McCoy twist within her fiery talon he was so enraptured that he, too, nearly forgot the danger they faced.  
  
"Wake up, Mags," it was Logan's voice, prompting him from his awe-inspired state. "This is our act."  
  
He looked to the man, seeing the lines in his face for the first time since he had known him. Logan looked to be as old as Magnus himself, but it rarely showed on him like it did now. His gaze falling on the rest of the group, he noted their hesitation as they, too, took in what they were facing. For all that Logan had spoken, no one moved an inch, each consumed by their own thoughts.  
  
_Jean…oh my dear friend…_ was all Storm could think as she watched the scene before her with infinitely sad blue eyes.  
  
_Jean…_ Bobby thought bleakly as he watched one of his oldest and dearest friends about to commit murder.  
  
_By the White Wolf…_ Piotr marveled, riveted where he stood.  
  
Only Logan's mind remained perfectly silent, as still and solid as his body, though the sheer force of power being exerted here was enough to drive the other X-Men backward. Only his eyes gave way, squinting against the glaring fire in the night sky, and the emotion held within those black depths was known to neither God nor man.  
  
*           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *  
  
The concerned thoughts emanating from the group were an open book to the fiery creature, and she hesitated just for a moment as she stared at her former friends gathered about her. She had memories of these people…fond memories for some…especially the one whose thoughts she could not read. His mind spoke nothing to her, but she sensed it was only his supreme effort of will and her lack of directly trying to probe his thoughts that kept him secreted from her. Like half-remembered dreams, she saw his face…behind a…bouquet of flowers in a hospital…?..she had been…hurt? Sick? Or had he been hurt? Had they both been hurt…? Another flash, and he was above her in agony, claws extended, somewhere…on…the moon? He was going to…kill her? Save her?  But…he didn't…couldn't…because…because he…loved her?  
  
She couldn't hold onto the images, and they escaped her grasp like quicksilver, gone before she could truly understand them. But she knew the feelings they inspired within her….and for just that moment, her energy nimbus wavered, flickering with indecision…  
  
It was then that Magnus recovered his senses and struck.  
  
*           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *  
  
Rogue growled and screamed with frustration, kicking one of Illyana's pillows across the room. They were gone, as surely as the rest of the X-Men were gone, as surely as Remy was gone, and be damned if she knew how to find any of them!  
  
*           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *  
  
The moon was sinking behind the mountaintops of Seattle as Remy reached his destination. A sense of delirious anticipation filled him as he made his way into Sinister's complex, certain that he would find the geneticist completely unaware.  
  
*           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *  
  
Sinister watched Seera go down without emotion, knowing he could clone her again at any time. The woman was of less than importance right now anyway; he knew exactly what was happening.  
  
*           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *             
  
The Phoenix brushed off Magnus' attack as one would swat down a gnat, her indecision of mere seconds ago completely gone, sending one of her fiery wings out to snatch him up. "You play with your life, old man. Tell me why I have been summoned to this plane again and I might yet let you live!"  
  
Helpless for perhaps the first time in his life, the most powerful mutant on the face of the earth found himself completely at a loss for an answer.  
  
*           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *             
  
Remy made his way through the bowels of the complex, finding that his mind remembered the path through the tunnels with too much ease for his comfort. There had been a time when he knew them by heart, could have found his way through them in complete blackness, a time when he had run missions for Sinister on a regular basis through these tunnels. But even worse than these tunnels, were the Morlock tunnels, and Remy could never forget how the blood had run through the gutters that day, staining the stone and earth as irrevocably as it had stained his own hands. He had never forgiven himself for that day, but neither had he forgiven Sinister for placing him at the head of such a massacre. The worst part was that no one had ever figured out why, exactly, Sinister had launched an attack on the mostly passive, reclusive group of Morlock's. There seemed to be neither rhyme nor reason to it, and that made the slaughter all the worse. A killer kills out of necessity; a murderer kills indiscriminately. And for all that Remy had been responsible for quite a bit of death in his time, therein lay the difference between the two of them. In a world where justice still existed, Sinister would have been put down like a rabid dog long ago, but instead he had been allowed to run free and destroy every life he came across, in some way or another.   
  
With all the hate in his heart, Remy gritted his teeth, the sense of anticipation never leaving him. He had waited far too long for this moment…a moment when at last, he would hold the final card over Sinister's head, winning the pot and taking all.  
  
And for all that simultaneously, several states away, the X-Men were being completely taken aback, shocked, surprised and awed by the Phoenix, no mutant on the face of the earth was more surprised than Remy when he finally reached the heart of the complex and saw his children there.  
  
*           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *  
  
Wanda Maximoff wrestled with several different levels of emotion as she watched her father fall mercy to the creature's energy tendrils. She did not know the woman personally, but she knew that she would never get the chance to know her father if no one spoke up right now.  
  
"I know why!" she called out, stopping the flurry of activity around her, cold.  
  
*           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *  
  
"I am not in the mood for this, Remy," Sinister sighed tiredly as the X-Man stepped into view.  
  
His thoughts in utter chaos, Remy simply stood and stared at the scene before him. Once, in his youth, he had been hit in the solar plexus with a baseball bat, forcing all the air from his chest and leaving behind a burning ache that starved for breath, an ache that pulsed and thrummed to the marrow of his bones and pounded through his body like a jackhammer. The sledgehammer that hit him in the chest now had nothing on that. Irinee' and Jean-Luc sat like tiny dolls before Sinister, their delicate frames supported by steel chairs that looked more fit for electrocution than comfort. Bands of metal encircled their angelic heads, the dark metal in striking contrast to their snow-white hair, large green eyes wide as saucers as they stared straight ahead, almost zombie-like. He was shocked, horrified, and violated on a level so deep he couldn't even begin to fathom it. This was a perversion of reality, a nightmare sprung to life, and as he watched, Sinister smiled coldly and deliberately, ruffling Jean-Luc's hair with mocking parental love. Maddened beyond all reason at the sight of his children within Sinister's care, he launched himself at the villain, not bothering to use his mutant ability as he charged him.  
  
"Really, Remy," Sinister commented as he casually sidestepped the attack. "I would think you would know better than that."  
  
"Dat's de t'ing, Sinister…I just never seem to learn," he snarled as he leapt again upon the geneticist.  
  
The sound of his voice seemed to jolt Irinee' and Jean-Luc from their trance. "Daddy!" his children screamed as one, and he felt his heart wrench painfully in his chest as he spared a glance in their direction.  
  
"I can save them, Remy," Sinister said slyly from beneath him. "The power of the Phoenix already threatens to overwhelm and burn out their tiny minds, like so many matches in the night. Already, I keep them from the fate which would be ultimately theirs, without my intervention."  
  
Remy struggled with several emotions all at once, loyalty to his family, his debt to Sinister, the possibility of continued life for his children. He had run over this ground time and time again, had thought he had made his decision. And now, his moment in the spotlight had come and he could feel all logical thought draining from him as fear for his children overwhelmed him. It was their very nearness that caused his indecision. If they had been miles away, he could have acted out his plan with the knowledge that they were safe and sound, far from Sinister's reach. This gave Sinister a great deal more leverage, and Remy cursed in every language he knew as he tried to figure out how the man had beaten his hand once again. The hell of it was, he knew that Sinister wouldn't lie to him, Sinister never lied. He told only as much of the truth as need be, though, and Remy had to hope that there was more to the truth than the man told, that his children could be saved by other means. If he could only figure out a way to get them out of here….he needed more time to work out a new plan. Unfortunately, time didn't seem to be a commodity he had available. _Back to Plan A, den._  
  
"No deal," he spat through gritted teeth as he bore all his weight down on Sinister's throat.  
  
"A pity…they shall die then, just as surely as you will," Sinister said, almost sadly as his body stretched and contorted, rising up from the floor and bringing Remy with it.  
  
*           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *  
  
The Phoenix hesitated once again as she looked to Wanda for an answer. And Wanda, for her part, searched her mind desperately for one, finding nothing. _I'm sorry, father_, she thought, wishing vainly that he could hear her.  
  
*           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *  
  
Henry McCoy, a.k.a. Dark Beast, continued his dance of delight, now released from the Phoenix's claws.  
  
"Isn't she extraordinary?!" he asked of the group gathered before him, not seeming bothered at all when they did not answer him. "The only creature who might be able to take out Sinister once and for all!" he proclaimed madly. Then, finally taking some stock of the group before him, he frowned just slightly. "But…where's Madelyne? She has to be here…has to witness my…our…final triumph…"  
  
*           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *  
  
Polaris realized two things within the time that Dr. McCoy spoke. One; Madelyne had been his other creation in this entire scheme, and two; he was playing with forces _far_ beyond his comprehension. All of the others were so focused on the Phoenix that they seemed to have forgotten about the man behind her re-creation. She exchanged a glance with Bobby, unable to glean any emotion from his iced-over eyes. She couldn't tell if he had heard or not, but she knew if they were going to make _any_ sense of this situation, they were going to have to get some information from the man in charge of this whole maniacal scheme. Calling her magnetic powers to her, she launched herself at the insane man with the velocity of a bullet.  
  
*           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *  
  
Magnus, realizing that Wanda had bought him time, but not his life, searched his mind for an explanation that might satisfy the creature. He had no idea why Dark Beast would have brought this powerhouse of a madwoman back to life, unless he meant for her to destroy the world, and Magnus certainly wasn't going to encourage that. Then, all of his thoughts came to a grinding halt as he watched the Phoenix stop Polaris dead in mid-flight, sending her backward with all the velocity she had been flying forward. There was a sickening thud as her body hit the side of the jet, putting a deep dent into the gleaming hull. As if in slow motion, he heard Bobby cry out, saw the Phoenix turn her head just slightly away from him, gleaming eyes falling on Polaris as her right hand came up, poised for what looked like a killing blow. He summoned all the air that he could, feeling the heat of the air around him searing the delicate tissue of his lungs as he inhaled. It didn't matter, he would not be beaten, would not see anyone die for so pathetic a reason as lack of voice.  "No!" he choked out, not caring what he blurted out at this point. All she needed was something to focus on, and that, he could give her. "You have been called here to save two children, not to kill!"  
  
The Phoenix settled her burning gaze on him with a dubious air. "I have been far better known as a Destroyer rather than a Savior, mortal." And a twisted smile appeared on her dark, beautiful face, a smile that sent cold chills through Magnus' body…a smile that he knew he would see in his nightmares for years to come.  
  
*           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *  
  
"Lorna!" Bobby cried out with more anguish than he thought he still possessed as he saw her go down under the Phoenix's onslaught. His heart thudded to a stop in his chest as she hit the side of the Blackbird and slid slowly down it to the ground. _No! Dammit, not again!_ he thought as he ran to her side.  
  
*           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *  
  
And above them all, from the fiery bird in the sky, came a keening wail of mad laughter that was heard in every mind across the world.  
  



	15. TRG Chapter 14: Showdown

CHAPTER 14: SHOWDOWN  
  
Remy knew he was in trouble as Sinister lifted him from the floor. Using all of the agility at his command, he slipped from the other mans grasp and fell to the metal floor beneath him. Desperately, his burning red eyes flashed side-to-side, searching for a way out. He hadn't planned on his children being here! There was no way he could follow up on his plan while they were here!  
  
And then, like the desperate, fleeting hope he was searching for, he sighted Illyana, standing frozen as she watched the proceedings. Relief flooded through him as he cried out to her, not even stopping to consider what she was doing there, "Get dem OUT OF HERE!"  
  
What was that look in her eyes? Regret? Sadness? Remy couldn't identify it in the moment her gaze met his, but he felt his heart sink as his sudden hope died out. Illyana shook her head sadly and lowered it. "I cannot. Sinister made me, I belong to him."  
  
Sinister smiled maliciously as he finished morphing, rising fully eight feet above the floor. His red eyes flared with something like glee as he looked down at Remy. "You see, Remy? She belongs to me as completely as the Marauders did, as completely as you do, as completely as your children shall."  
  
Remy's eyes blazed deep crimson as he ignored Sinister's obvious barb, feeling the anger rising within him like a tide, but not letting it sweep him away. Not yet. "Dammit woman! I don't care WHO made you! Have a caring bone in your body! Don't consign dese children to de same life as you!"  
  
One of Sinister's arms lashed out with such an amazing speed that Remy wasn't even sure he saw it until he felt a hand wrap tight around his throat and begin to strangle him. He glanced at Sinister and saw that the man hadn't moved from his position of moments before, his posture and expression indicating his boredom with the proceedings. So calm, so confident, so self-assured, Remy thought even as his strained windpipe began to buckle beneath the assault. He would see that expression wiped from the monster's face before he was done here. He turned his pleading gaze upon Illyana again, begging silently with his eyes for what his throat would not let him ask.  
  
Her cornflower blue eyes flickered uncertainly for just a moment. It would surely mean her death to teleport the children away from Sinister…and yet…she had lived her own life as a pawn of an evil villain. Belasco had owned her just as certainly as Sinister would own these two children. As certainly as Sinister now owned her. Could she consign them to that, having gone through it herself?  
  
It was small flicker, but more of a glimmer of hope than Remy had dared to imagine. He summoned all of his will and strength as brought his hands up to pull at the vice around his throat. Sinister's grip was like steel, but it didn't matter, he pushed past the pain with every last bit of breath he possessed. "Illyana, please!" Remy pleaded, his voice cracking as tears slipped from his eyes.  
   
She stared at him for what seemed like an eternity, memorizing the expression of torment on his face as Sinister slowly strangled him to death. None of his pain came from what Sinister was doing to him—that was all internal—it was the thought of what would happen should his flesh and blood be left in the care of such a monster. A monster that had created her for no other purpose than two steal these children for him.  
  
"Pu—lease…" he rasped, barely able to force the words through his crushed throat.  
  
Illyana's tears joined Remy's in a moment of shared sadness. Two sides of her soul warred in decision, as torn by the need to survive as to serve the heart of the hero within her. Ultimately, she could not do otherwise than to heed his plea…though it would likely cost her her life, she could not see him go into death in such despair. A death he was obviously so willing to go to for the sake of his children. She had given up more than should ever be asked of a human being in her time….but her life would have meant nothing without the sacrifices of others, the sacrifice of herself, indeed, to help save the world. And if she could rescue these two children from the same fate as herself, then she would do it.  
  
With a shuddering sigh, she nodded to Remy and called her teleportation disc to her, some part of her overjoyed that she still held the spirit of a hero within her and another cursing her madly for taking what she considered the higher path.   
  
"Illyana! NO!" Sinister cried out, infuriated. In his moment of anger, he forgot all about his opponent, dropping Remy to floor as he turned toward Illyana, but she was already gone.  
  
Remy breathed a shuddering sigh of his own as they disappeared through the portal, his eyes taking back on their fire as he faced down Sinister for the last time.  
  
"Now we see, who owns who…," he croaked through his ravaged vocal cords, calling his kinetic ability up from within.  
  
*           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *  
  
The door of the Blackbird was suddenly, violently kicked open, startling Siryn as she kneeled over Madelyne.  
  
"Bobby?" she asked uncertainly.  
  
He stood there, a black silhouette framed in the doorway by the fiery glow behind him, the broken body of Polaris in his arms.  
  
"My God," Siryn whispered as she rose from Madelyne's side.  
  
"Traitor!" Bobby screamed, the rage in his voice causing Siryn to recoil.  
  
"Bobby…what?" Siryn asked, completely taken aback by his choice of words.  
  
"I think…he means…me…," Madelyne croaked from the floor.  
  
*           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *  
  
Rogue was nothing less than astonished by the sudden re-appearance of her children and Illyana within her room.   
  
"Illyana! What the—," she broke off, barely having time to gather Irinee' and Jean-Luc in her arms before Illyana suddenly collapsed to the floor.  
  
"Don't…worry bout me….they need you right now…more than I do," Illyana gasped. And no sooner than she spoke, Rogue's children also suddenly collapsed in her arms.  
  
*           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *  
  
In California, the Phoenix suddenly released Magnus from her grasp, dropping him some thirty feet to the ground. Her head cocked to one side, she listened as if to a distant sound only she could hear. "I…hear them….," she whispered, and then took off with the speed of a shooting star to the northeast.  
  
*           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *  
  
The power spilling from her children's heads was almost more than Rogue could stand. She knew what needed to be done, though every fiber of her being cried out against it. None of her concerns, her petty morals or fears had a place here. She would do what needed to be done to save their lives.   
  
Veins and sweat stood out on her forehead as she struggled to siphon off the suddenly activated power of their telepathy. It poured into her mind and filled it, expanding her awareness across the world on a scale she'd never known was possible. It was almost too much for her mind to handle, and she touched her children's bare skin sparingly, so as not to take too much on herself, nor drain them of their blossoming minds.  
  
*           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *  
  
"Remy, defiant to the end, as I always suspected," Sinister said, turning back toward the cajun as he spoke. "I made you well…almost too well, I think. My mistake was in giving you far too much free will, the same mistake, it would seem, that I made with Illyana. No matter," he waved off the thought with one hand. "I will have the children back, and you will be dead, unable to stand in my way."  
  
Remy barely even heard this last proclamation, so stunned was he by Sinister's revelation. "Made me?" he echoed in a whisper, his mind already denying what he felt in his heart to be terrifyingly true.  
  
"But of course," Sinister said mockingly, as if it should have been an obvious statement. "Why do you think I have always been such a part of your life, Remy? That I have always kept tabs on you, that you found yourself so disposed toward dealing with me despite your better sense? I made you, Remy, I own you without question, and you are mine to do with what I choose."  
  
"Non…," it was barely a whisper of protest. Remy shook his head back and forth as he backed away from Sinister, his entire body shaking with the turmoil of his emotions. Rage, fear, betrayal, hatred, he felt them all and more, unable to put a single name to the feeling that gripped him.  
  
"Oh, yes," Sinister contradicted insistently. "You see, you were one of my earliest experiments in X-Men DNA. I had already seen what potentially powerful offspring Charles Xavier produced with Gabrielle Haller, a mere human. How great the power, I wondered, if Xavier had produced a child born of another mutant?" Sinister's arm stretched out toward Remy again as he spoke, and Remy, for all of his shock and horror, found that his battle instincts had not deserted him as he dodged and rolled clear of the blow.  
  
Sinister seemed unperturbed by his failure to snare the cajun as he continued. "Unfortunately, the other mutant DNA available to me at the time was limited, and the process not yet perfected. You did not gain the telepathy of Charles Xavier, or David Haller, but instead it lay dormant in your genes while your other powers manifested. So I waited patiently through the years, and was finally rewarded with the birth of your children." Again, Sinister lashed out and again Remy dodged, rolling under the elongated arm.  
  
"Non," Remy protested more strongly this time. The shock was fading, battle pressing more immediate concerns upon him. "My father, Jean-Luc, raised me in de Thieves Guild in New Orleans…"  
  
"Which is exactly where I placed you. I was curious to see how such a dishonest lifestyle could shape a young mind. But again, you proved a terrible disappointment, clinging to heroism almost as desperately as the man from whose DNA you were spawned."  
  
His response gave Remy pause. There was possible truth here, for Jean-Luc had only found Remy as a young child of six or so and taken him in, raising him as his own son. But if it were true…dear God, the child of Xavier? The very thought seemed beyond comprehension. But it made so much sense when he thought of the power his children stood to wield one day. They were, in many ways, far more the children of Charles Xavier than of Remy LeBeau.   
  
Distracted by his thoughts, Remy was suddenly snapped to attention by Sinister's hand reasserting itself over his throat. "So there is the answer to your question, Remy," Sinister smiled as he shortened his arm, dragging Remy across the floor until their faces nearly touched. "I own you, body and soul."  
  
If Remy could have responded, he would have, but his vocal cords were far beyond speech, or even repair at this point, he suspected. He had hoped to play his final card and walk away from the table, but Sinister, as always, had the ace up his sleeve. If he could have had time to plot, the time to set his plan in motion, he could have taken out the villain without him ever knowing who was responsible. But the sight of his children in Sinister's hands had caused him to act irrationally.  
  
_Might as well make de best of it_, he thought as he sent kinetic energy coursing through his hands and into Sinister's body.  
  
*           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *  
  
Rogue clenched her eyes and teeth in frustration, the power of the combined telepathy threatening to overwhelm her. She'd never known so much power existed! It almost seemed as if it weren't all theirs…another consciousness blending with their own, an awareness that spanned the globe with ease and soared through its stratosphere with joy.  
  
She could feel everything! Every waking mind, everywhere on the face of the earth! She knew their hopes, their dreams, their fears, everything that made them individuals. She knew their innermost secrets, every aspect of their being was laid bare before her. She was lost in the rapture, reveling in the glory of such power.  
  
*           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *  
  
"You knew," Bobby snarled, barely an inch from Madelyne's face.  
  
"I knew nothing of his plans for the Phoenix," Madelyne shot back, having recovered some of her strength with the Phoenix's sudden departure.  
  
"So help me, Madelyne, if Lorna dies," he glanced meaningfully at the med-slab at the back of the Blackbird that Lorna laid upon, "you will shortly follow her. You have my word on it."  
  
*           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *  
  
Magnus caught himself with his magnetic power a full twenty feet from the ground, staring after the fire trail the Phoenix left behind her in the sky. He didn't need to wonder where she had gone, her last words had made her destination quite clear.  
  
"Storm!" Magnus shouted as his feet touched the ground. "Take your team and round up McCoy. My team will return to the complex and hopefully catch the Phoenix there."  
  
"Already done, Magnus," Storm replied, and Magnus noticed that the majority of her team had already taken off in the direction the mad doctor had fled when the Phoenix disappeared.  
  
Magnus hurried the rest of his own team toward the jet, stopping only when he felt a hand fall upon his shoulder.  
  
"I'm goin' with you, Mags." Logan's expression made it clear that he expected no argument on the matter.   
  
And Magnus offered him none as he stepped aside to let the man board the jet.  
  
*           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *  
  
Storm watched as Logan disappeared inside the plane, feeling her heart thud painfully with the sound of the Blackbird's door hissing shut. _Goddess go with you, my love_, she thought as she watched the jet rise from the ground. A moment later it was gone, screaming across the sky in the same direction the Phoenix had gone minutes before.  
  
She stood alone on the slight rise they had landed upon, unable to shake the feeling that live or die, she had already lost Logan irrevocably.   
  
*           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *  
  
Remy knew he was dying. Every moment was a new experience in internal agony within Sinister's grasp. He had pushed beyond the limits of his power, tapping into reserves he didn't even know had existed, filling Sinister's body, the floor of the complex, the lab equipment, everything in a fifty foot radius full to bursting with kinetic energy. The strain was almost too much to bear, and he felt himself on the verge of passing out both from energy expenditure and lack of air.   
  
It didn't matter. None of it mattered now. All that mattered was that when he did die, he would be taking Sinister with him. His children would be safe, and Rogue…Rogue…he felt his heart ache with the thought of her. She would be so sad, so angry with him, so lost without him…would she ever understand that he had done this for her and the children as much as for himself? Would she ever forgive him, or herself? Her face filled his mind, as beautiful now as it had been ten years ago when he had first seen her. Briefly, the years ticked by in his mind, how they had changed and grown together; their first meeting, their parting in Antarctica, their reunion, the day of their wedding, the birth of their children, the love that had remained constant throughout. Remy had never been a particularly religious man, but he hoped somehow, that wherever he went when he died, she would join him someday when her time came. But even if she did not, he knew the memory of her would carry him through eternity.  
  
*           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *  
  
Rogue was drifting, sifting through consciousnesses of the world, marveling at the complexity that made up each individual. She was so fully merged with her children's psyches by now that she no longer thought in the sense of an individual, herself. It was something of a gestalt between them now, and she gave herself over to it, letting their combined power carry her where it would. It was easier this way than trying to force it to her will.  
  
She was far beyond the concerns of her mortal life, her mortal vessel, a side-effect, though she did not yet realize it, of the Phoenix's rapidly approaching presence. So it was that when she finally brushed against a familiar consciousness in her travels, she was surprised. It was a loving presence, a comforting presence that she only dimly recognized in her current state. On a base level, she (they) knew this was someone she (they) cared for greatly, and she drew her (their) thoughts to a focus on the person, and felt them respond in kind, welcoming her (them) in.  
  
And then…  
  
*           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *  
  
For a brief moment, Remy thought he could feel her here with him, her and their children, their minds brushing gently against his. It was insane, they were miles away and he knew it even in his near-death state, but he grabbed hold of the feeling and pulled it close inside of him, letting the feeling of them warm his heart from within.  
  
The room glowed a bright pink with the energy he had expelled, rippling over the room in waves like heat ripples over the ground on a hot day. Still, he pushed on, feeding every last bit of power he possessed through Sinister and into the room, fueled by the strength of his family within. He felt nothing so much as peace, in these, his final moments. They were with him.  
  
The room began to tremble violently, delicate lab equipment falling from shelves and tables to the floor, where they shattered, dumping their contents out onto the smooth floor. It was time.  
  
His lungs burned for a breath of air, his entire body ached, but still, he managed a final smile as he released the last of his energy into Sinister's body.  
  
_Got you, you bastard_, he thought as his consciousness began to flicker out.  
  
And then, everything exploded in a flare of kinetic energy.  
  
*           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *  
  
The unfortunate souls who chose to live too close the Seattle complex had just a moment to marvel the explosion as it caught the chemical tanks in Sinister's lab, then, they too were wiped out in what was the equivalent of a nuclear blast.  
  
*           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *  
  
She was dying! Every cell in her body flared with a burning agony, turning flesh to smoking cinder. The pain was so excruciating that she could barely think past it, barely hear the weak voice that pulled at the fringes of her mind.  
  
_"ROGUE!"_ the voice called out in agony.  
  
And then she recognized it, knew it, understood exactly what was happening. Her awareness returned in an instant, like a jolt of electricity and fear coursing through her veins.  
  
_"REMY!"_  
  
She was locked into him now, and she felt the pull of darkness that beckoned to him. She watched in horror as his synapses winked out, one by one, like lights being turned off at the close of a business day, the blackness growing and consuming his mind.  
  
_"I got 'im, chere. You all…be safe, now…"_  
  
Tears rose in her eyes though she couldn't feel them, and she grabbed hold of his tenuous thread of thought, struggling to keep it alive, to keep him bound to this plane.  
  
_"REMY! NO!"_  
  
_"Too late, chere…too late for me….save de children. Tell…Magnus….he take care of you, now…love you chere…now an' always…."_  
  
His thoughts like quicksilver more than ever before, she felt them sliding inexorably through her grip. She saw herself reflected in them, saw their children reflected in them as well, given a beauty denied to them in reality, blessed with the kind of perfection one can only find in the mind's eye. For a moment, his entire life was laid out before her like a storybook, and she looked into the depths of it through tear blurred eyes, seeing herself, seeing their life together as he had seen it. She felt as though they were one, finally given the true union of soul in mind that they had only emulated in body. So entwined were their minds that Rogue could no longer separate herself from him, their children from them, and the shared love between them all refused Rogue the option of letting him go.   
  
_"Ah love you, Remy…"_  
  
She felt his mind tighten against hers in an odd way that she would never be able to describe afterward, like a mental hug. Then came a sharp tug and sudden release, and she lost all sense of him…as if he had cut their link to avoid taking her into death with him. She was a single mind again, feeling herself drifting in the dark of his mind as if in a void, more alone than she had ever felt in her entire life.  
  
_"Always…"_ he answered echoingly.  
  
The voice faded out, and the final light in his mind went black, taking all of his psionic presence with it.   
  
And then, Rogue went truly, completely, mad.  
  



	16. TRG Chapter 15: The Downward Spiral

CHAPTER 15: THE DOWNWARD SPIRAL  
  
The X-Men felt it like a physical blow.  
  
Rogue's psionic scream tore through their minds with more rage, anguish and sorrow than they had ever thought possible, rocking each of them with its sheer power and stunning them with its raw emotion.  
  
It seemed to go on forever, screaming its cacophony of emotions, and then ended raggedly, suddenly, as if the link had been abruptly severed.  
  
"Dear God," Magnus whispered, his blue-grey eyes wide when he could finally open them.  
  
*           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *  
  
In Southern California, Storm did not even bother to pull herself from the grass after the scream faded. She lay there, head in her hands, quietly sobbing for the death of one of the best friends she had ever known.  
  
*           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *  
  
The Phoenix paused momentarily in her journey, hovering in the air with an expression of puzzlement. She had never felt such primal rage, such utter anguish, except within her own mind. For a moment, she sympathized with the woman who cried out for the loss of her love, remembering her own loss of Scott so many years ago.  
  
But wait…that wasn't right…Scott had lost _her, not the other way around. She had sacrificed herself on the moon to save the universe. She remembered saying goodbye, saying that she loved him, and then activating the old gun behind her with her telekinesis, scattering her atoms into infinity. That was right…wasn't it?  
  
It seemed to be right, yet she had a second memory struggling to the surface, one blurred and overlaid by other memories throughout the years. A memory of being reborn again, of finding Scott again, of marrying him. A memory devoid of the Phoenix power. One that cut off abruptly in a painful flash as she faced off against the Shadow King, drifting into darkness….until now.  
  
But that couldn't be right. The Phoenix had never been Jean Grey, though it had longed with all its heart to be. How could she have a memory of herself without the Phoenix power? She WAS the Phoenix. Wasn't she…?  
  
*           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *             
  
Rogue crawled across the floor of her children's room, her soul in agony as the scream went on and on inside her mind. She was far beyond coherent thought now, her normal patterns of thinking jumbled in total chaos. It hadn't been the preservation of her children's lives, or even the preservation of the rest of the world's minds, that had made her break contact with Irinee' and Jean-Luc. It had been an act of pure instinct, the act of a wounded animal seeking shelter, the need to curl into a tiny ball and hide from the harsh truth hammering its way through her mind over and over again.  
  
He hadn't pulled her into death with him, but she felt as if her heart, her life, her soul, had died with him. Only her body remained, and her mind…and those were filled with nothing but a burning, all consuming feeling of loss.  
  
Would that she had died with him than suffer to live like this.  
  
*           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *  
  
Several miles from the decimated lab in Seattle, a figure appeared from nowhere with an audible pop of air displacement. Shaking his head, he surveyed the damage around him for a moment, then shrugged almost imperceptibly. It mattered not. He could always build again.  
  
The dust of debris floated in the air about him, and he brushed it from his clothing disdainfully. Most would have considered a bit of dust a welcome alternative to the other outcomes of having been at the heart of such an explosion. But then, most people were not Sinister.  
  
Without another glance around, he disappeared in the same manner he had arrived.  
  
*           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *  
  
Rogue sat up suddenly straight and gasped, jarring Illyana from her state of semi-consciousness.  
  
"He's alive," Rogue whispered, as if in shock.  
  
Illyana squinted at her, debating on whether or not to argue that Remy couldn't possibly be alive after seeing the image Rogue had projected of his death.   
  
"He's STILL ALIVE!" Rogue shouted, rising to her feet, and Illyana had never heard so much rage contained in three, small words.  
  
"Who, Rogue?" she asked weakly, barely able to force the words from her mouth. The use of her voice set her into a fit of coughing, and she noted grimly that Sinister's fail safes were carrying out their work quickly.   
  
"Sinister," the other woman answered, drawing the sibilants out into an eerie hiss, and Illyana felt a stab of fear shoot through her. The look in Rogue's eyes was akin to the look Illyana had seen in Wolverine's during his animalistic, berserker rages.   
  
Only this was more frightening, and even less human.  
  
*           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *  
  
The Phoenix could feel them inside her mind as she approached the complex. Two tiny awareness's, so small, so fragile, so filled with power. How could they bear it, she wondered? Their power was enough to rival her own, and she didn't have a great history of being able to control herself.  
  
The thought sent a pang of regret through her momentarily, and then she was distracted again by the power contained within the Arizona complex below her. She didn't bother with the formalities of a door, instead using her near god-like telekinesis to punch through the face of the cliff wall, on a path to collision with the two tiny minds that shone like a beacon, calling her in.  
  
*           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *             
  
Irinee' and Jean-Luc's powers of telepathy were rapidly fading from Rogue's mind, but she hardly needed them to feel the presence that was barreling its way through the cliff toward her. Armed with the insanity of her rage, she turned toward the east wall of her children's room, prepared to defend them with her last dying breath.  
  
*           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *  
  
The Phoenix burst through the wall without ceremony, throwing up a cloud of debris and dust which did nothing to hide the glowing nimbus of power that flowed from her form. So intent was she on finding the children who had involuntarily called to her, she was completely taken aback by the woman who launched herself at her, connecting a fist to her jaw with the force of a thunder crack, staggering the Phoenix backward.  
  
Enraged by the woman's presumptuous attack, the Phoenix readied a blast of telekinetic energy, preparing to deal her opponent a quick death. Then she hesitated, the woman's face striking a chord of memory in her mind.  
  
But that was impossible! She'd never seen this woman before in her life…had she? A memory bubbled to the surface, breaking free of the confusion that clouded her mind.  
  
They had been going after Magneto, and this woman…Rogue…had been pensive, almost distraught. She remembered touching the woman kindly on the shoulder, offering a word of reassurance, sympathizing with the confusion this younger woman felt. She distinctly remembered fighting alongside Rogue and the rest of the X-Men…but how could that be?   
  
Her hesitation cost her. Rogue's fist connected with her face again, sending her chin upward as she fell backward, landing roughly on the floor. Amazed, the Phoenix stared up at her with something like admiration. Very few opponents had ever been able to stagger her, much less put her down for even a moment. This woman had accomplished both in a matter of seconds. She could feel the rage that seethed from the other woman like a living thing, a rage that threatened to break her mind and pull her into a downward spiral toward insanity. The Phoenix recognized that feeling all too well, knew it all too intimately. She knew, too, that only blood could satisfy the hunger for revenge that coursed through Rogue's veins. This woman would do her best to kill her, and though she understood Rogue's current state of frenzy, she could not allow the woman to hit her again.  
  
The Phoenix rose up from the floor, taking to the air to gain a better position on her opponent. If this fight was to be to the death, then so be it, but it would not be the Phoenix who fell today.  
  
*           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *  
  
Illyana had rarely felt so small and insignificant as she did at that moment. From her position on the floor, she watched the two women engage each other with force more deadly than she had ever seen. It was like watching two titans collide.  
  
*           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *  
  
Rogue smashed through the wall of her children's room, landing ungracefully in a heap in the hallway. Her entire body ached more than she'd thought possible. Usually her invulnerability protected her from even the worst of blows, but the Phoenix's power was far beyond most things she had experienced.  
  
The Phoenix pressed her advantage, moving in close for another telekinetic blow. Rogue lay still, unmoving as she watched her opponent approach, a look of defeat claiming her features.  
  
The Phoenix smiled with glee, caught up in the fury of the battle now, bloodlust singing through her own veins as strongly as it had through Rogue's mere moments before. Positioning herself, she prepared to deliver another hammering punch with her telekinesis—and was driven back into the room as Rogue launched herself like a rocket at the other woman.  
  
Lodged halfway inside wall, the Phoenix steeled herself for another of Rogue's powerful punches, and was surprised when none came. Instead, she felt hands on her face, not cupping her gently, by any means, but certainly with much less force than the frenzied blows they had been exchanging.  
  
Confused, she willed her telekinesis to push her from the wall. She had barely cleared the wall when she suddenly collapsed to her knees, staring up at Rogue in shock as she realized what was happening. Using all the considerable might of her telepathy, she tried to fry Rogue's mind, shut it down, anything to stop this strangely violating exchange….and was shocked again by the barrier surrounding Rogue's mind that stopped her dead.  
  
There was an alien consciousness mixed in with Rogue's, one that the Phoenix was not used to dealing with. Given time, even a few minutes, she probably could have worked her way past the barrier, but she did not have the precious time needed to learn how to navigate it. Already, the world was swimming into blackness around her as Rogue siphoned off her power at an alarming rate.  
  
*           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *  
  
In the depths of her now-primal consciousness, Rogue discovered an idea.  
  
She wanted, _needed_, to kill Sinister. The knowledge that Remy had sacrificed himself for nothing gnawed at her like a ravenous wild animal. Unable to reach the focus of her hatred at the moment, she had instead vented her rage against this woman, hoping that her death would satisfy the need for revenge burning in her blood. But blow for blow, punch for punch, she had found no satisfaction.  
  
Now, at the moment she was about to snap the god-like woman's frail neck, a more crafty idea occurred to her. This was the Phoenix, an incredible powerhouse the likes of which had rarely been seen. A near-goddess with the power to destroy entire solar systems…the kind of power that could take out a man like Sinister, easily.  
  
Pressing her bare hands against the woman's face, she began to draw out the power inside of her, letting it fill her with its warm glow.  
  
*           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *  
  
The Phoenix struggled against Rogue's iron grip, refusing to let herself be stolen, to be used like this.  
  
Growing weaker by the second, she could almost see the power leaving her body, her own fiery glow growing weaker as it began to envelope Rogue. Her power was deserting her. Desperately, she tried one last time to strike at Rogue's mind, but this time she was unable to even pull her concentration together enough to begin such an assault. Pulled under slowly by the darkness that sought to claim her, she found that her memories were still intact and reached out, clinging to them eagerly, clinging to anything that would help her keep her identity. She had been a woman without a sense of who she was so many times…so many times lost, so many times dead and reborn. How could anyone know who she was?  
  
Rogue could steal her power from her, perhaps, but she would not take her soul. Holding stubbornly to her memories, she followed them downward into blackness.  
  
*           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *  
  
Rogue was overwhelmed by the sheer power she was absorbing. Her training with the Brotherhood had taught her many things about controlling her power, mostly how to separate memory from power and choose which to take from her opponents, but nothing had prepared her for the primal fury housed in this creature.  
  
The Phoenix's awareness blurred and mixed with her own, and she found her thoughts shifting back and forth between her own and those of the woman whose power she was stealing. She felt gloriously alive! Brimming, almost overflowing with energy and power. As with her children, she had the same sense of world-awareness, of being able to touch every mind, everywhere. She saw the world in whole new way with her newly acquired telepathy. It wasn't sight so much as sensing, waves of telepathy reaching out, wrapping around every object it encountered and giving a sense of shape, color, even texture. It was beautiful! A way of seeing that she'd never imagined…and one that she had no time to enjoy.  
  
Carefully, she avoided drawing out the woman's memories, not wanting to assume any more of the Phoenix's persona than she already had, and concentrated instead on drawing out every last bit of mutant ability she possessed. It was difficult…the woman struggled valiantly against Rogue's efforts, and if Rogue had been more aware of the situation, she probably would have thanked God that the Phoenix was not currently at full power, still re-learning her abilities and limits as she was. Even as it was, the Phoenix's persona threatened to overwhelm her own, and it was all she could do to hold on to reality, however fragile her grasp might currently be  
  
She felt as if she would burst, and still, she consumed more, her hunger driven as much by need for revenge as the Phoenix's own hunger for power, now.   
  
*           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *  
  
Even with her eyes closed, Illyana could tell that Rogue was glowing with the intensity of a star. The white light penetrated the thin cover of her eyelids, striking through her eyes and into her brain with stabbing pain. Whimpering, she ducked her head toward the floor, trying to shut out the burning light.  
  
A moment later, the pain behind her eyes paled in comparison to Rogue's voice as it boomed through the small room.  
  
"I AM FIRE! AND LIFE INCARNATE! NOW AND FOREVER—"  
  
The light was suddenly extinguished as her voice cut off, and Illyana found the ensuing silence much more disconcerting than anything that had come before.  
  
When she finally dared to open her eyes, Rogue was gone and the Phoenix lay unconscious on the floor.  
  
*           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *             
  
Sinister pondered as he sat in front of the computer screen in his mini-lab in Nevada. It was a sparse lab, and not much of a base of operations, but it would do for now. He had others that were more well-stocked, but this one won out by proximity.  
  
His battle with Remy, the loss of his main lab, was already forgotten as he turned his attention to far more important matters.  
  
Reaching out with his telepathic power, an ability he seldom used these days, he sought out the X-Men to see how their mission was faring. After all, why make plans when he wasn't even sure the world would be here tomorrow? he thought with a bitter smile. If they hadn't dealt with the Phoenix, then it would be up to him to try, and he doubted he had the time he would need to figure out a way to take her out.  
  
Cursing the range of his power, he pulled on a psionic amplifier and settled back down in the chair.   
  
He didn't even have time to reorient himself before a telepathic message slammed into his brain with the power and speed of a locomotive.  
  
_"I'm coming for you, Sinister." _The female voice hissed with evil glee.  
  
Sinister pulled the amplifier from his head with a grunt of pain, throwing it across the room in a fit of rage. Angry as he was though, he found that another, less familiar sensation was nagging at him. _I'm coming for you…_ the voice echoed in his mind again.  
  
And though one wouldn't have thought it possible, Sinister's complexion turned an even whiter shade of pale.  
  
_


	17. TRG Chapter 16: Life Incarnate

CHAPTER 16: LIFE INCARNATE  
  
In the depths of her memories, the Phoenix was dying. Their spaceship was burning up as it hit the Earth's atmosphere, and she could feel the radiation beginning to seep through her TK bubble and into her body. Her flesh was turning gray, rapidly emaciating as the radiation ate away at her, and she called out in desperation (goodbye?) to the man she loved more than life itself.  
  
"SCOTT!"  
  
It was here that the memory diverged, then converged again with another, deeply hidden memory. In the original memory, Jean Grey had cried out for help, and a cosmic entity called the Phoenix had answered her call. The Phoenix had agreed to save Jean, placing her body in a cocoon to heal. But the Phoenix longed to be human, to know what it was like to be mortal, and struck a deal with Jean which would allow her to take a piece of Jean's personality and assume her mortal form. Jean, having no other choice but death, had agreed. And so it was done.  
  
But that was a lie.  
  
Deep within her subconscious, buried so far down that she would never have found it had she not been searching for the missing pieces of herself, she found another memory, one that rang true.  
  
She had cried out Scott's name, yes, that much was true. But what had happened after that was something even she hadn't imagined. The radiation that was slowly killing her had triggered a change in her mutant genes, upping them to their most powerful potential, mutating the mutation for lack of a better explanation. She had felt the change, felt her power suddenly increase far beyond normal proportions, shutting out the radiation from her form and saving her life. But the damage had been done, her body was failing. She had no time to worry about that at the moment, though. The ship was hurtling toward the earth with the velocity of a rocket, and power increase or no, it was taking all of her telekinetic control to keep it from flying to pieces.  
  
The ship obediently slowed, and she felt a moment of triumph, just before blacking out on the console.  
  
When next she remembered waking, she had been in the hospital, and her powers had been increased beyond any potential Charles Xavier had ever realized. She had never explained her theory of the radiation to the X-Men, and she thought now that maybe she hadn't, because at the time, she hadn't remembered.  
  
The months flew by in a blur, bringing her up to the point where she had sacrificed herself on the moon. It had been the only logical thing to do, in her mind. Obviously she couldn't control her increased powers, and she had already killed some five billion people because of it. Her penance for her crimes would be death, and she herself would carry out the sentence.  
  
It had seemed like the only option at the time, and the best course of action she had. This was where all of her memories should have stopped…and would have if she were truly the Phoenix entity who had replaced Jean Grey. But now she knew that the Phoenix had never replaced Jean Grey at all…it had been her, the entire time.  
  
She trembled inside her mind at the revelation, unable to accept it. There had never been a Phoenix at all. And if it hadn't been the Phoenix who had taken all those lives, then it had been Jean Grey. It had been her, all along.  
  
*           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *  
  
Magnus took one look at the children's destroyed room and the Phoenix's unconscious body and knew exactly what had happened here.  
  
"Where did she go?" Magnus asked, kneeling down beside Illyana.  
  
"After…Sinister," Illyana rasped.  
  
Magnus' look of concern faded rapidly as his anger came to the fore. "What? I strictly forbid—"  
  
Illyana shook her head, interrupting him. "He was after the kids…I…it was me…I helped. And Remy died…trying to save them."  
  
Anger turned to confusion, and Magnus stared at her for a long moment in silence, trying to make sense of it all.  
  
"Wow…score one for Rogue," Madelyne said as she entered the room and surveyed the scene.  
  
Magnus was about to respond with a scathing remark when suddenly, Jean-Luc and Irinee' began convulsing violently.  
  
*           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *  
  
She hadn't died then. It had felt like dying, her atoms discorporating in a sudden flash of fire, but no, that hadn't been the end. Now that the lock on this box of memories had come undone, they were coming faster and faster.  
  
She remembered how it had felt, being broken into a thousand tiny fragments, her very soul split asunder at its core and replicated in each atom. Her very essence was scattered into remnants, and without a form to hold them together, they each went in whatever direction called to them. A tiny bit of her was captured by Lilandra and placed into a memory crystal, which in turn was given to her parents to remember her by. The rest of her roamed the galaxy at random, searching for a home.  
  
Another piece of herself found its home in her clone, Sinister's creation Madelyne Pryor, actually breathing it into life. But it was a mere fragment of the woman who had been Jean Grey, and was overwhelmed by the memories Sinister had implanted. Eventually, that piece had melded into Madelyne's persona and become part of it.  
  
The rest of her found its final home in Jamaica bay, the place where the Phoenix had originally been born. With great care, she had gathered herself together, placing herself in a cocoon where she could reform and heal. But this time, she promised herself as she slowly became more coherent, she would not become the monster she had been before. There would be no Phoenix power. So thinking, she had buried all of her memories as Phoenix as deeply as she could, using her telepathy to cut off her access to them before she shut it down forever. So deep was her shame in her actions that she rearranged her memories to remember the Phoenix force as a separate entity that had taken her place. That was the story she had believed, even wanted to believe, on a subconscious level for so many years, that finding the truth behind it now was terrifying. The power had been too much, so she put locks on it, kept it at bay to the extent that she even shut out her telepathic ability and her memories.  
  
When they had found her, years later, she had been head-blind, with no telepathic power to speak of. Her memories remained as she had arranged them, and no one had ever questioned the wildly concocted story she gave them. She, herself, had believed it, so why shouldn't have they? The piece of herself that had merged with Madelyne was returned to her eventually, and then she was nearly whole. Slowly, over many months, as she began to trust herself again, her telepathic ability returned. It was diminished in comparison to the Phoenix's power, but at just the right level for Jean Grey prior to her radiation exposure. Even as she had released the locks on her telepathic power, she had kept it under control, keeping it to a level she believed was her maximum.  
  
It had taken even longer to realize her true potential for power, and to feel comfortable using it. She had always held back, subconsciously, out of fear for Scott's reaction and her own lack of control. She had slowly been opening up that untapped power, exploring it and learning how to use it again, the locks on her memories gradually giving way. She had been on the verge of reclaiming her power as the Phoenix when the battle with the Shadow king had come. Perhaps, if she had been fully familiar with her power then, the battle would have ended quite differently. As it was, she had died along with all the other telepath's across the world.  
  
So why had she died in that battle, but not when the gun on the moon had fired on her? Was it an ability of the gun that had made her discorporate in such a way? Uncertain, she dug deeper into memory, finding what she was seeking very close to the surface.  
  
She hadn't died, then, either. Again, her atoms had dispersed, then re-converged in the place of the Phoenix's birth. She had been rebuilding, healing all of this time. Apparently someone had found her, had tampered with her memories before she woke up, because the state of confusion she had awoken with had been unnatural. She had awakened with thoughts of the Dark Phoenix, eager to take up her role as Destroyer of Worlds, something she would never have done on her own.  
  
That bothered her, but she found that the implications of her memories were far more pressing, and terrifying. If all of her memories were true, if everything had happened as she now remembered it…  
  
The radiation had transformed her, and she had truly become a force of nature, not unlike the cosmic entity she had blamed all of her misfortune on for years…and that meant she was the Phoenix in more than name and deed. It meant she could not die.  
  
She was immortal.  
  
*           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *  
  
Without their mother to siphon off their power, Irinee' and Jean-Luc's telepathy had built up to the bursting point again.  
  
"What the hell is going on?" Magnus asked angrily as the world continued to slowly unravel around him.  
  
Madelyne frowned, then walked toward the children's beds, closing her eyes momentarily before gasping aloud. "Their brains are being fried by their own power."  
  
"Can you help them?" Magnus asked tensely, his mind racing to put together the pieces. Apparently the Phoenix's telepathic burst of thought at the moment of her resurrection had triggered the children's telepathy before its time. He felt like he was asking the lion to take the lambs into its den, but he had no choice.  
  
Madelyne frowned, looking uncertain. "I might be able to merge with them telepathically and help keep their power under control…"  
  
"But will you?" Magnus asked quietly. This was the moment of truth. Either she would help the children willingly, or he would threaten her with her life. If that didn't work, well, he'd figure that out when he got to it.  
  
Madelyne arched a brow at Magnus, seeming to consider. Her first instinct had been to help the children, she hadn't even questioned it, and now she wondered about that. She'd been willing to sacrifice her own son to destroy the world, once. Why should she go out of her way to help children that weren't even hers?  
  
She pondered the question for a long moment, then shrugged. Her deal with Magnus had been that she would help the team as long as they helped her against Sinister. If Rogue was going after Sinister with Phoenix power, she'd probably succeed in killing him. At the very least, she could repay Rogue for trying to take out Sinister, even if she didn't succeed. That was the deal she had made, after all.  
  
"Oh ye of little faith," she replied, closing her eyes again and reaching out into the children's minds.  
  
*           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *  
  
Bobby paced back and forth in front of Lorna's unconscious body anxiously. "So what's the verdict, Siryn?"  
  
Theresa sighed and brushed her hair back from her face. "It's hard to say…Lorna is the best 'doctor' we have, unfortunately. From the med-slab specs, it seems she has massive trauma to her internal organs, right arm shattered from the shoulder down, broken collarbone, concussion—"  
"Enough," Bobby held up his hand, the growing list making his stomach turn. "Will she…will she be all right?" he asked in a much more subdued tone.  
  
"I think so," Theresa nodded. "The specs are promising and she'd already recovered somewhat on the trip home. It's a good thing you got her in there so quick Bobby…she was this close to dying," she held up her thumb and index finger about a quarter inch apart to demonstrate.  
  
He was about to open his mouth to reply, when suddenly the med-slab alarms began to blare urgently. "What the he--?!"  
  
"She's going into cardiac arrest!" Theresa yelled above the din, all the blood draining from her face.  
  
*           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *  
  
Logan sat crouched over the Phoenix's body, utterly silent, a brooding look upon his face.   
  
Had she always been this beautiful, he wondered? She was even more vibrant than he remembered, even in her comatose state. How could he ever bring himself to kill such a thing of beauty, such a wild force of nature, such a kindred spirit? And yet, how could he not, when the very world was threatened by her existence?   
  
He heard Magnus moving behind him, and he wondered for a moment if the other man was measuring him as much as Logan was measuring himself.  
  
He flexed his hand once or twice, staring down at it, and for a moment, Magnus thought he might just pop his claws and kill her then and there. Then, slowly, he let his hand drift back down to his side and continued watching her, waiting for the faintest sign of life, or threat.  
  
*           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *  
  
Rogue rejoiced in the feeling of the wind that rushed over her face. She had always been able to fly relatively fast, but the speed of the Phoenix's travel was intoxicating. Even better than that, was the knowledge that with each passing second, she drew closer to her goal, and she could almost taste satisfaction.  
  
The ground would run red with Sinister's blood before she was done with him.  
  



	18. TRG Chapter 17: Stripped

CHAPTER 17: STRIPPED  
  
Madelyne was floored by the sheer power Rogue's children possessed. Opening her mind up and linking with them was like plugging into a whole other realm of telepathy. It reminded her briefly of the power she had wielded during Inferno, power that was almost on par with the Phoenix herself. For a moment she felt regretful, almost empty in comparison to these children. She had forgotten what it was like to see this way, to feel the world through its thoughts and feelings. Her own telepathy was weak in contrast to them, but it was enough to accomplish what she had entered their minds to do.  
  
They resisted her intrusion at first, psi-shields coming up more out of reflex than any conscious action, but their struggle was brief, and Madelyne thanked whatever God might be listening that their backlash of power was peaceful in comparison to what the Phoenix had been putting out earlier. In their overwhelmed state, they had no control over their power and it was an easy task for Madelyne to struggle through. Once linked with them, their tension eased and they opened themselves up fully to her, as if sensing her intent. Drawing upon her own mastery of her telepathy, Madelyne shared her knowledge with the children, showing them how to control the power, how to dampen its effect. They followed her mental guidance as best they could, but she could quickly tell that her instruction would not be enough. There was too much raw power here to be dealt with.  
  
Delving deeper into their minds, Madelyne found the pathways that gave access to their telepathy and began using their own power to erect barriers, hoping to gradually lighten the flow.  
  
*           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *             
  
"Madelyne," Magnus called again, his patience wearing thin. He wanted to grab the woman by her shoulders and shake her from her trance, but he didn't dare interrupt whatever process she might be involved in right now, for fear of damaging Irinee' and Jean-Luc permanently. He weighed the importance of the children's lives against their mother's as he waited for an answer from Madelyne, not able to decree one as more important than the other.  
  
Groggily, Madelyne finally stirred, emerald eyes opening to half-slits. "What?" she asked curtly.  
  
Magnus hesitated only an instant before asking, "How are they?"  
  
"I've managed to lock down their power a bit, at least so that it won't burn out their minds right away."  
  
Magnus nodded. "Your efforts are greatly appreciated." He paused again, then continued. "I have another task to ask of you. With Rogue half-insane from grief and wielding the Phoenix power, we need to find out what is going on with her. Illyana said that she went after Sinister, but we cannot allow that kind of power to run unchecked. Can you psi-link with her?"  
  
Madelyne snorted. "You don't want much, do you?"  
  
"Only everything you can give," Magnus replied. "The same I ask of all my X-Men, and of myself."  
  
Madelyne stared at him in silence, contemplating the meaning of his words. He was relying on her, depending on her as he would any other member of the team, treating her as if she were a trusted ally rather than a probationary member. She had come here with one purpose: revenge against Sinister, and she had simply seen the X-Men as a means to that end. But what would happen once her goal had been achieved? What would she have to focus on, to give meaning to her life? Certainly she hadn't ever considered the X-Men a permanent alternative, but right now, in this moment, she felt as if fate had stepped in and taken over. She was being asked to prove herself, to go above and beyond the call and risk her life, perhaps her very sanity, for the sake of the X-Men. Her past sins were forgotten, if not forgiven, and if she complied, she knew she would find a home among them. If she refused, however, giving in to the selfish agenda that had served her so well, her tenure here would come to an end, and she would be on her own again. Somehow, the prospect of returning to a solo career on this war-torn planet did not seem as enticing as it once had. And besides, she thought with a smirk, she was as curious as Magnus to find out what was happening with Rogue and Sinister.  
  
All of these thoughts passed through her mind in mere seconds and she nodded. "I'll need Jean-Luc and Irinee's help to boost my range, I think."  
  
"So long as it does not cause them harm."  
  
"I'll do my best," Madelyne replied, closing her eyes and returning into her link with the children.  
  
Magnus watched, and hoped that her best would be enough.  
  
*           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *             
  
Her hands trembled with an unimaginable rage, her very blood singing with need for vengeance. Her rage was like a living thing, coursing through her veins without release, growing in intensity as it completed each circuit through her body. She could hardly see for the red haze that clouded her vision, could hardly think for the pain exploding in her mind. All thoughts of life incarnate had vanished now, and she felt like death itself; a black reaper come to claim Sinister forever. It was the very thing that gave her life meaning, her only mission, her only purpose in this world.   
  
*           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *  
  
Her hands trembled with an unimaginable rage, her very blood singing with need for vengeance. Her rage was like a living thing, coursing through her veins without release, growing in intensity as it completed each circuit through her body.   
  
Madelyne reeled as she was overwhelmed by Rogue's emotions, gasping aloud as she tried to reassert a hold on herself. Desperately, she tried to hold onto her own mind, her own identity, even as the primal emotions and raw power pulled her deeper within.  
  
It took her without gentleness or apology. It took her soul and laid it bare, naked before its burning gaze. It filled her mind with cold, sifting fingers, inside her, all around her, working its will upon her. She stood up tall before it, defying it, and there was a screaming gale all around as it laughed, shattering her illusion of strength in one brief instant, like leaves torn and scattered by the wailing wind. And there was ravenous hunger; an aching thirst for knowledge, for revenge, for the soul within her. And it was within and without- surrounding her, filling her, making love to her, tormenting her, laughing at her in malevolent glee, laughing with her in rapturous joy. It was the cause of her tears, it was the salt in her tears, it ached with empathy for her sadness and it mocked her for the same. It was the pain in her heart, it was the beating of her heart, and it was- oh, it was everywhere! It was everything!  
  
And back in the Arizona complex, tears streamed down Madelyne's face as she found the one thing she had searched for all her life. Understanding.  
  
*           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *  
  
"Madelyne!"  Magnus thundered as he slapped her again, and he almost cringed at the resounding thud of his hand against her cheek. Striking a woman was one of the lowest things a man could do outside of battle, in his opinion, but given the circumstances he felt he had no choice. She was so far gone he feared she might never come back, and that fear was rapidly becoming an actuality.  
  
Blood streamed from the corner of her mouth, and Magnus was gathering himself to strike her again when her eyelids finally fluttered open.  
  
"Madelyne! What the hell is going on?"  
  
"She…I…we…it's too much…too much…" she gasped, obviously far beyond coherent.  
  
He grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her without hesitation this time. "Madelyne, stay with me! Focus on my voice."  
  
Her head lolled to the side, then slowly came up straight again in a weak nod.  
  
He contemplated continuing to talk to her, briefly, then decided it would be easier to do this himself.  
  
"Bring me in."  
  
*           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *  
  
Rogue didn't pause as a new voice spoke up in her mind. She had no time for this, for him, for anything.  
  
_"ROGUE!"_ the voice called again, insistently, distracting her again.  
  
_"Go away, Magnus,"_ she answered in annoyance, mentally swatting him aside like a fly.  
  
_"I will not."_ His voice was weaker, but his will held before her mental push. _"Do you care to tell me what it is you think you're doing?"  
_  
_"I do NOT."_ She pushed him aside again, still speaking in the Phoenix's voice.  
  
_"Is this what Remy would have wanted? For you to sacrifice yourself as needlessly as he did?"_ he asked, hoping that the mention of Remy would at least hold her attention, if not draw out the part of her that was still Rogue.  
  
It was a bad move. He felt her anger and rage suddenly directed upon him, and wondered if gaining her full attention had been such a good idea after all. "He died so that me an' the kids could live in peace. He'd want me to finish it for him, if he knew Sinister was still alive." Rogue's voice now.  
  
Magnus understood her feelings all too well, and truth be told, his heart ached for her loss. He knew intimately the despair of losing a loved one. And then there were his own feelings for this woman to consider. But he didn't want to look at those too closely right now, for fear she might see. "It won't bring him back, Rogue. God knows I spent years seeking revenge for the loss of my daughter and the desertion of my wife. It didn't work. There is nothing that will ever fill the empty hole you have inside you now."  
  
"Ah'll make Sinister bring him back then." Her voice shook with tears, but he could hear the determination behind them.  
  
"And would Remy want to be forever indebted to Sinister for that act?"  
  
He could feel her hesitation.  
  
"He would rather be dead than be owned, Rogue. We both know that."  
  
"But if Ah killed Sinister…"  
  
"Then he would still owe his life to his most wretched, hated enemy."  
  
Silence.  
  
"Rogue, don't do this," Magnus pleaded. "We've already lost Remy; we could not bear the loss of another team member. And your children could not bear the loss of both parents in such rapid succession."  
  
Silence.  
  
"Rogue?"  
  
Quiet sobbing drifted into his mind. "He was mah LIFE, Magnus."  
  
"I know," he answered quietly. "As Magda and Anya were mine. But _you_ are your children's life."  
  
Silence again, but he could sense her contemplation.  
  
"They have no lives, while Sinister lives," she answered with finality, and he sensed more than heard the sudden break of telepathy between their minds.  
  
Magnus snapped back into the awareness of his body with a sense of failure. She was gone.  
  
*           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *  
  
Madelyne came to her senses a moment later as Rogue shut her out as well. One trembling hand reached up to touch her cheek, and she gazed at it in wonder as it pulled away wet. She had no words as she met Magnus' eyes, too awed and exhausted by what she had discovered during her brief contact with Rogue and the children.  
  
Magnus, too, was silent for a long moment, but it was he who finally broke the silence.  
  
"She's on her own now."  
  
"Can she win?" Madelyne asked, her voice weak with exhaustion.  
  
Magnus dropped his eyes and did not break the silence this time.  
  
*           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *  
  
Sinister had had every intention of being gone before the Phoenix got there. He wasn't so sure she couldn't kill him, and he would be a fool to find out if she could the hard way. So his intention had been to move on as quickly as possible…for a few seconds, before he realized that she would find him wherever he went. He would only be delaying the inevitable by leaving now.  
  
*           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *  
  
She burst through the outer wall of the lab with the velocity of a rocket, the Phoenix fire trailing behind her body like an inferno. There were no words exchanged as she and Sinister simultaneously released energy blasts at one another.  
  
*           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *  
  
Sinister already knew he was outmatched as she unleashed her power upon him, her telekinetic energy enveloping him and sending him shuddering into the back wall of his lab.  
  
He was awed by the power of her, the sheer anger that motivated her. It was Rogue's face that he saw, and yet, the primal energy of the Phoenix shone far above that; with an elegance, a vengeance that made him proud, though he had not been the one to bring her back.  
  
"You think that you can overcome me?" he asked, with something like disbelief.  
  
"Not think…Ah know," she answered, the primordial fire flowing from her with an almost welcome anger.  
  
"Ah….and you, of all my opponents, are one of the few that might yet win out."  
  
And Sinister found he was tired…tired of all the struggles for this world, tired of all the battles, so tired of always being the pawn and never the player. Surely, he had continued his research, looking for the ultimate mutant. But faced with the being before him, he was at a loss to compete. The Phoenix encompassed all. How could he ever hope to find more in another?  
  
And her telekinesis tore at him, ripping his atoms apart one by one.  
  
By God Himself, she was a glory, he thought…  
  
*           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *  
  
Theresa Cassidy cursed, swearing beneath her breath as she placed the paddles over Polaris' chest. One shock…and then another.  
  
"Lorna! Please!" Bobby pleaded as he watched, helpless other than to observe.  
  
Her body jumped at the touch of the paddles, contracting mindlessly in effect to them.  
  
*           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *  
  
"Illyana!" Kitty cried aloud as she found her friend, laid low by Sinister's schemes.   
  
"Peace…Katya," she answered after some time. "All…is…as it should be…"  
  
"NO!" Kitty cried aloud, kneeling to grasp her friend by the shoulders. "I won't watch you die again!"  
  
*           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *  
  
"Your life is mine!" Rogue cried as she tore at Sinister's very physical being.  
  
"No, my life is mine, as it has ever been. As Remy's was mine…as yours shall be mine, should you fail."  
  
"Then I shall not FAIL!" she cried, turning all of her might upon him.  
  
And Sinister only smiled….  
  



	19. TRG Chapter 18: Eclipse

CHAPTER 18: ECLIPSE  
  
Kitty watched helplessly as the life slipped from Illyana, remembering a time, years ago, when she had felt the same way. Surely there must be something--  
  
Her thought was cut short by a sudden scurrying sound near the doorway, followed quickly by the shuffling sounds of many feet. Rising and spinning to face the door in one smooth movement, she saw them, and her heart froze in her throat.  
  
Hundreds of glowing red eyes blinked to life in the shadows of the room. Slowly, they uncoiled from the darkness as if their forms were derived from it, a roiling cloud of black flesh converging around the X-Men, a sea swimming with horrific faces, razor sharp teeth, all limbs and claws and teeth and fury. Leathery wings scraped and beat as they moved, mouths and noses hissing with fetid breath as they circled closer, forming a tight knot around the four team members. They were creatures of nightmare, the source of screams upon a child's lips in the night, and they seemed… eager.  
  
Demons.  
  
"Oh, yes," Madelyne said dryly. "This is _just_ what we need right now."  
  
Side by side the two X-Men stood, protecting Illyana from the expected initial rush even as Magnus and Madelyne joined the fray. But the demons were not attacking. Confused, Kitty stood her ground, searching her mind for an answer.  
   
It came a moment later, in the form of a cold voice from behind her that raised the hair on the back of her neck in a way the sight of a mere demon never could have.  
  
"Welcome, my pretties," Illyana rasped, then cackled madly.  
  
*           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *  
  
Logan smelled them long before he saw them, but still he did not move from his post at Jean's side. He had moved her to a spare room, one not so demolished and filled with people. Magnus had hardly had time to argue with him about it since the leader of the team was far too busy trying to save Jean-Luc and Irinee's lives, and for that he was grateful. His reasoning had been twofold; if Jean woke up with any trace of the Dark Phoenix power, he would end it instantly, and privately, as it should be; and on the off chance, that he could not help but hope for, she woke up as herself, she would need time to orient herself.  
  
_Right, Logan_, he thought dryly. _Good reasoning. Almost anyone'd buy off on that. Except that you wonder, somewhere deep down, if all you want is your face to be the first thing she sees when she wakes._  
  
He shook free of the thought, his heightened sense of hearing attuning to the events in Rogue's room down the hall. The demons were there all right, but he refused to stand with his teammates unless they absolutely needed him. Indeed, the very question of the Earth's continued survival now lay housed in the small, delicate body of this woman he stood watch over.  
  
No, he would not leave her side now. In fact, he never had in all the time he'd known her. And he could not help himself from wondering if he ever would.  
  
*           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *  
  
In the hangar of the Arizona complex, the other X-Men having run off to help with the final battle as best they could, Ororo alone stepped inside the holding chamber of the Blackbird, features lifting squarely to face off with the Dark Beast, completely composed now as she interrogated the recently captured scientist.  
  
The mad geneticist, for his part, seemed to be enjoying the telling of his tale immensely. His thick, clawed hands rubbed against each other in excitement as he spoke, and he was momentarily more lucid than Ororo had ever seen him.  
  
"Madelyne was a pawn, never meant to be anything more. A distraction, a thorn in Sinister's side while I groomed the Phoenix for his destruction. It was her decision to come to the X-Men. She thought she'd have a better chance of destroying him with your help." Immense, furry shoulders shrugged slightly, as if to say it mattered not to him.  
  
"But why?" Ororo asked, refusing to call him by his given name, refusing to profane the memory of the lovable Dr. Henry "Hank" McCoy that had fought by her side for years.  
  
"Why?" He seemed amused by the question, sharp, white teeth suddenly bared in a feral grin, bushy brows raised high above dark, glittering eyes. "I had supposed you must have figured it out by now. Sinister and I had the oldest of scores to settle. In fact," he went on slyly, lowering his tone conspiratorially, black eyes locking on her icy blue gaze, "I would think that Iyou/I would understand best of all, Storm. After all, were you not the leader of my children when they were slaughtered?"  
  
A chill ran down Ororo's spine, in cold contrast to the burning anger that suddenly ignited in her heart. There could be no mistaking the Doctor's meaning. The death of the Morlocks had ever been an unresolved conflict in Ororo's soul. She had been their leader, their protector, and she had failed them all. She had let them die. No matter that she had not been there when it first happened. Had she been fulfilling her duties of leadership to them, she would have been there, might have saved them. But the X-Men had been first among her duties, first among her loyalties, and so she had left the Morlocks to fend for themselves, leader of them only in title.  
  
"_Your_ children?" she asked carefully, managing to keep all emotion from her tone. All those years of practicing as the untouchable, unreachable goddess, she thought wryly, a tendril of sadness snaking into her heart.  
  
"I created them," he answered, drawing himself up proudly. "They were beautiful in their terror, weren't they?"  
  
"They were twisted! Malformed!" she replied angrily, the first bit of emotion beginning to overtake her. "You consigned them to a fate, to a life of hiding, of abnormality far beyond that of most mutants; a life without ambition or hope, rife with unhappiness. This, you would call _beautiful_?" Her voice was rising dangerously.  
  
His mouth twisted in an insidious smile. "Is that why you did not stay with them?"  
  
The question pierced her heart, as it was meant to, deflating her anger like a balloon, and she could not find the words to argue, suddenly.  
  
He went on as if nothing had happened. "An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth. Sinister's creations were sent to destroy my own, and so I sought retribution against the man himself. I knew, as Madelyne did not, that the X-Men would never go after Sinister without provocation, so I cloned his children, the Marauders, to attack your Alpha Flight base. If you would punish me for any crime, let it be that. Not for the creation of my children, whom I cared deeply enough for to avenge their deaths. Deaths that you, and your X-Men, let go unpunished.  
  
Ororo was stunned by the man's use of words. But even more than that, she was saddened and sickened by feeling the truth of them in her own heart. She had left the Morlock's behind thoughtlessly, and perhaps she had done it because it was as he said. She had always been a child of nature, her duty always to the beauty of the earth with which she was connected. The Morlock's were outside the natural order of the earth, created by science as they had been, and they had been hideous beyond all reckoning. She had become their leader only out of necessity to neutralize the danger they posed to the X-Men. Had she ever cared for them? It seemed not, as she thought on it now. Perhaps she had taken leave of them so abruptly and totally because she could not stand to look upon their twisted visages, could not bear to feel their implicit "wrongness". She, the unreachable, untouchable Goddess, had turned her nose up at the very people over whom she had ruled, those who had worshipped and needed her. She was reminded of the stories of the petty Greek and Roman Gods, of their indifference to those who cried out in supplication. In that instant, she understood that she was no better than they had been depicted.  
  
Oblivious to her inner turmoil, or perhaps delighting in it, the Dark Beast hummed a jaunty tune beneath his breath.  
  
*           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *  
  
The four X-Men stood locked in place as Illyana spoke, hardly daring to believe what they had heard.  
  
"Darkchilde…" one of the demons hissed, a twisted limb rising out of the mass in supplication. "Come home with ussss now."  
  
"NO!" Kitty shouted, suddenly released from her horror with the demons words. She made as if to launch herself at the horde, determined to kill every one of them with her bare hands rather than see Illyana swallowed up by their dark embrace. And was brought up short by a hand, strong as steel upon her shoulder.  
  
"No, Kitty." Illyana's voice now, quiet and resigned. She wavered on her feet as she stood, but she did not let go her grip on her friend.  
  
"Illyana….you can't," Kitty said, uncomprehending, so confused that she was unable to explain _why_ Illyana couldn't do that.  
  
"I must. They are here for me, you see." She waved a hand toward the horde, which trembled and shivered in the delight of her attention. "And if I do not go, here they shall remain, and the walls between this world and Limbo shall grow ever thinner, merging the two worlds completely at its end. You know as well as I that would spell disaster for all of human-kind."  
  
"But…you are dying…and we can fight them! We beat them back into Limbo once before!"  
  
Illyana shook her head, sadly it seemed. "Only because I sacrificed my power to close the gate forever. And now that I exist within the mortal world again, my powers reclaimed, the gate opens once again. It has been slowly deteriorating since I was cloned into life by Sinister. A little flaw in his design." She smiled without humor, cornflower blue eyes filled with bitterness. She could not escape her destiny. Never, in any life, or form or design. And so she embraced it.  
  
"Think of what you're saying!" Kitty pleaded desperately, knowing already that she had lost the argument.  
  
"Come, Darkchilde….," another demon hissed, impatiently it seemed. "Home, where we sssshall heal you and you will reign assss our Dark Queen, asss it alwayssss ssshould have been."  
  
Illyana's eyes flashed red, and a chilling smile twisted her lovely features.  
  
*           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *  
  
Every fiber of his being sang with unimaginable pain, and for a moment, he reveled in it, stood in awe of it, experiencing it fully. He had never known pain like this in his long, long life. It suddenly occurred to him that this was what it felt like to die, and following that, the rapid, almost surprising realization that although he had lived for centuries, he was not yet ready to yield to death.  
  
Calling forth the considerable might of his own telekinesis, he hit Rogue with the force of an asteroid striking the earth.  
  
She passed through the wall behind her effortlessly, and then another, and another, and another before she caught herself, reversing her trajectory. All premise of using her power seemed to leave her now as she flew at Sinister, fists striking at him like hammers in her animalistic rage. At once amused and awed by her tactic change, he watched as she unleashed the force of her rage against his telekinetic shield. And even within the shield of protection as he was, he could feel the force of the blows as they fell, could feel the weakening of his power as she raised her telekinetic ability against his. This was madness, he thought.  
  
Sinister lashed out with an energy surge that should have fried her where she stood. Instead, she merely smiled, the energy pouring over her own telekinetic bubble, redoubling her efforts at breaking through his shield. Would nothing stop her, he wondered? And as she continued to steadily pound against him, alternately tearing at him with fists and powers, he began to realize that she had no upper limit. In the fullness of her rage, the Phoenix had been unstoppable. It was only her humanity that had weakened her, that left her vulnerable. Staring into her hatred-filled face now, he saw only the goddess.  
  
He had but one chance, and it was a gamble, indeed. Sinister did very little without forethought, and over his many years, he had had time to plan for nearly every contingency. The risk to himself was great, but so was his need. He only hoped that he could confuse her enough to allow him the chance to strike at her, finally and fatally. There was no time to deliberate. He closed his eyes, willing himself from his body.   
  
In seconds, his body disintegrated before the Phoenix's wondering eyes. Perhaps she would think she had won, he thought, vaguely amused. She had no way of knowing that his body was programmed to discorporate upon the exit of his mind. It was a failsafe that had saved him several times, leaving his mind free to inhabit another clone, and giving his opponent the illusion of victory.  
  
The Phoenix stared at the pile of dust that had been Sinister, perplexed the sudden turn of events. For a moment, she indeed believed she had succeeded…but then, she felt him. His presence removed from her, blocked by distance and layers of separation, but there. Still alive. She howled with rage.  
  
"You seek to deceive me Sinister. To escape me on the very plane that is my province! Let this be your downfall, then!"  
  
With that, Rogue's body fell to the floor, empty and lifeless.  
  
*           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *  
  
Kitty stood, watching the sudden transformation in her friend with removed terror. She was afraid, for a moment, that it might fall to her to end it if Illyana was overcome by her evil side, now. A tremor of relief shuddered through her as the moment passed, Illyana's eyes becoming blue again as they focused on her.   
  
Illyana shrugged sadly at Kitty, her expression at once forlorn and resigned. "I must go. I was molded to rule them, and if I do not go to them, shutting the gate behind me as I enter Limbo, they will claim me in the end, anyway. Better that I should go like this, of my own free will, still balanced by the good in my soul, than be resurrected as a dead, unfeeling thing by the Techmode virus. And that they would do, since it obviously still runs rampant in Limbo." Blue eyes flashed red for a moment, then reverted.  
  
"No…" Kitty whispered this time, feeling utterly defeated to the depths of her soul. Illyana collapsed then, and Kitty caught her friend in her arms. Illyana clasped Kitty close in a brief hug, tears streaming from her eyes.   
  
"I have to go, Kitty. Now, before death claims me." Pulling her head from Kitty's shoulder, she held her friend's gaze for a long, sad moment, then reached out to take the forefront demon's clawed hand.  
  
"We shall meet again, Katya." A weak smile from Illyana, lost in the sudden glimmering white light from a teleportation disc. There was a moment when Kitty could see Illyana's silhouette, illuminated from behind by streaming white light, and she reached out her hand, every fiber of her being pleading for a reprieve, crying out in her mind that this could _not_ be happening, it just _couldn't_. It seemed to her that Illyana reached out a hand as well, though it was impossible to tell with the white light filling her mind. And then the portal snapped shut, taking all the demons with it.  
  
Just like that, she was gone.  
  
*           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *  
  
The landscape twisted and moaned all about him, nightmarish in its form. Once, the astral plane had been a place of shimmering beauty, but that had been before the Shadow King had come. The devastating psionic energies he had released upon his escape had torn and damaged the plane beyond recognition. It now resembled something far more like Dante's depiction of Hell.  
  
Soulless faces swam through the landscape; their mouths open in muffled screams of terror and pain, eyes so wide it seemed the delicate lids had been ripped from them, leaving them to stare open and blindly upon the horrors that now comprised the plane. They moved like mercury all about him, seeming to merge and converge seamlessly, eyes and endlessly open, screaming mouths blending in a sea of macabre dance. Every now and then, a scrabbling, clawed hand broke through the surface, searching blindly, for what, it alone knew.  
  
They were little more than fragments of memory, Sinister knew, residue leftover from the horrible deaths of all the telepath's years before. They were not minds of and unto themselves, yearning for release. No, these were ghosts; the last terrified screams of the dying captured forever like so many flies in amber. Their suffering and rage had been such that it had scarred the very plane that ultimately ruled them.  
  
And then there were the great gaping holes, filled with eternal blackness, and shot through with lightning that somehow did nothing to illuminate the darkness. Even the restless phantoms did not stray near these ominous voids, as if in fear that even their own tiny awareness might be swallowed up forever.  
  
It was almost overwhelming to Sinister; the howling of the wind and lost souls in concert, the very plane itself crying out in pain of being torn asunder. But it was merely the suddenness of having it thrust upon him, and it took only seconds to orient himself. After all, Sinister was no bleeding heart; the cries of those about him fell on deaf ears. He had evoked much worse from his own lab subjects.  
  
No sooner than he had righted himself, a fiery presence exploded into existence on the plane.  
  
His own form here was gigantic against the ever-shifting landscape. But even so, he was nothing compared to the great, glowing bird of fire that loomed over him, screaming its wild call for vengeance.   
  
An instant to realize that he had not evaded her wrath by escaping here, and then she was upon him.  
  
Fiery talons rending and tearing at him in terrible, beautiful agony, a moment of pain so searing, so deep, it was almost sweet, and then he felt himself begin to unravel. Falling endlessly backward, slow motion, as if through time, an eternity locked in her terrifying embrace, astral bodies pressing together as intimately as if they were lovers, her essence filling his every sense, losing himself in her as he had never done with any woman while in his mortal shell. She was Jean, she was Rogue, she was mother, lover, goddess. Surrounding him and swallowing him with her deadly grace, suffocating him with her unearthly beauty. And he realized he was being seduced into death. And he realized that he was enjoying it.  
  
The instinct to survive flared within him, the need to struggle, but he could not escape the encirclement of her arms, like steel, crushing him. A flash of lightning in the corner of his fading awareness, and the blackness reached up to devour him, like an animal eager to feed. What lay beyond the madness of this landscape? He was about to find out. Stubbornly, he dug his heels in, refusing to die alone if he must die at all, and he crushed her against him with his own embrace, determined to take her with him into the unknown.  
  
She screeched her defiance, thrashing about to disentangle herself from him now, too late, too late.  
  
Sinister chuckled with dark triumph in his last conscious thought, the cord of his mind at last breaking free of its moorings, unraveling out into the darkness of the void around them. The Phoenix saw its silver strand stretch and then break, spinning off into the nothingness, tossed about like a leaf in the wind, insignificant. And then she herself began to come undone, the nothingness tearing at the edges of her fiery form, tiny wisps of fire peeling off before being extinguished forever.   
  
Rogue's scream of anguish was cut off abruptly as the fiery bird suddenly ceased to exist.  
  
The cold wind rushed by, the plane now eerily silent save for the moans and howls of the shattered minds that made up its mass.  
  



	20. TRG Chapter 19: Farewell

CHAPTER 19: FAREWELL  
  
Jean's emerald green eyes flew open with a gasp, her entire body jolting in shock as her consciousness abruptly returned to its rightful place.  
  
"Scott?!"  
  
"No, darlin'," came the gravelly voiced reply from just beyond her field of vision, and she struggled to focus her blurry eyes.  
  
"Logan?" a whisper now, not the plea of a moment ago.  
  
"Yep."  
  
She didn't even stop to think as she flew up from the bed, throwing her arms around his shoulders and sobbing desperately against his chest.  
  
Thick fingers clenched, then unclenched, rising slowly up to stroke her shimmering hair.  
  
*           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *  
  
Rogue awoke with a start, every muscle and sinew in her body aching with indescribable pain. It didn't matter. The pain of her flesh barely held a candle to the aching void in her heart.  
  
Curling into a tiny ball on the floor of Sinister's lab, she sobbed out her sorrow into the unfeeling steel beneath her.  
  
*           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *  
  
Irinee' and Jean-Luc collapsed as one, their ordeal finally over as the power of the Phoenix returned to its rightful place, held in check now by its owner.  
  
*           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *  
  
Somehow, Bobby felt like he had been the one to almost die as Lorna's vital signs returned and leveled out.  
  
"It's not over yet," Theresa said quietly, her tense face lit by the gentle green of the med-slab monitors.  
  
Bobby turned to her wordlessly, astounded.  
  
"Her arm." Her voice was tight with obvious distress, soft with sadness. "It's irreparably shattered. It has to come off, or it will kill her."  
  
*           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *  
  
Kitty cradled the broken form of Lockheed in her arms, a token left behind by the demons, her face wet with tears. Something within her seemed to harden in that instant, and then break, as if her very heart had been sundered.   
  
*           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *  
  
Colossus found Kitty staring stoically at the floor, the dead body of her pet dragon held as if forgotten in her arms. Sadness welled up inside of him and he knelt, gathering her in his arms, embracing her warmly, and lending her his strength. But she was cold, almost lifeless against him, shallow breathing the only indication that she still lived. Afraid for the first time, he drew back and gazed into the emptiness of her deep brown eyes.  
  
"Katya?"   
  
A flicker of recognition and then her gaze focused fully on him, causing him to sigh with relief. But any sense of peace was immediately forgotten as she recounted the events of the last few minutes before his arrival. Tears welled up in his eyes as he listened, not just over the fate of his sister, but for Kitty as well, for all she had endured in these years following the Shadow King's escape. He cried not only for her pain, but also in her place, giving voice to the sorrow that cut so deep she could no longer feel where it began and ended. He cried because her eyes remained dry.  
  
*           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *  
  
Magnus moved from room to room, frowning, silver brows knotted in concern. No other fatalities, it seemed, but oh, the pain. It was almost palpable, radiating from each member of both teams like a beacon of despair. They had overcome the villains once again. He wondered if they had enough strength left to overcome the enemies within.  
  
*           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *  
  
From a quiet corner, far removed, Madelyne stood, chewing on her thumb nervously, thoughtfully, watching as each X-Man tried to pick up the pieces of their individual lives and move on. She was shamed by their bravery, dwarfed by their nobility, and she realized now that she always had been. Perhaps that was why she'd always hated them so much.  
  
*           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *  
  
The dome light shone a soft green against Ororo's dark skin from within the Blackbird cockpit. It was the only illumination in the darkened jet, the rest of the team having long departed to see to those they'd left behind. Only she remained, alone in the pale light that accented the contours of her expression, white brows drawn together in sadness, cerulean eyes distant with thoughts of times both long gone and yet to come, creating a picture that was at once pensive, sad, and lost. Lost. The Morlocks, dead because of her negligence; Remy, dead at Sinister's hand. Lost. Jean, her sister in all but blood, had been dead twice over, and soon, perhaps, she would have to die a third time. And to her shame, Ororo found that she almost wished for it; for the death of one she loved as a sister. Because she didn't know if she could take losing Logan, too.  
  
*           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *  
  
Logan's hand trembled as it pulled reluctantly away from Jean's hair, his body drawing back from her as if with a will that was not his own. He had to know, he had to see. As wonderful as it was to have her, hold her, fill his senses with her, he could not risk everyone else for the sake of his own pleasure. Black eyes glittered as they searched her tear-filled green ones, looking for a sign, the smallest indication that she might not be who she appeared.  
  
"Jeanie?" he asked gruffly, his voice thicker than usual, though now with emotion.  
  
She nodded gently, eyes never leaving his. "The only me that ever was."  
  
And somehow, though she left much unspoken, he sensed the truth in that.  
  
*           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *  
  
The sky was gray, threatening rain as the X-Men gathered in grief beneath the rolling clouds. Magnus noted that little had changed since his last visit here to the old mansion as they filed out the doors, down the hill to the row of graves that stretched much too far into the distance. For all the years that passed, for all the hardships they endured, it all ended here, at this mansion that was once their home, in this place that had always held hope for the future. Once an unknown mutant institute in upscale, rural New York, it had become so much more than that in the years that had followed. It had become the very embodiment and symbol of hope for mutant-kind. Perhaps for the world, itself.  
  
Passing beneath the low trees, they came to a stop before one small hill, forming a half-circle around the light gray headstone. Magnus stepped to the forefront and turned, surveying the faces of each teammate gathered before him. Ororo, so tall and regal and composed, yet her blue eyes remained downcast with sadness, and she had chosen not to speak this day, leaving that to Magnus instead. To her right stood Logan, almost a full head shorter than his dark-skinned lover, his shoulder just touching her arm. Something was not right between them of late, and if Magnus had to guess, he'd say it had to do with the woman standing to Logan's right. Jean Grey, living and breathing, standing just a bit too close to Logan, protocol forgotten in sorrow. Next to her stood Lorna and Bobby, linked arm in arm, the green-haired woman taking care not to squeeze her lover too roughly with her new metal arm. According to Theresa, who stood just behind them with Puck, it was made purely of metal shards held in place by the power of Lorna herself. To their right stood Bobby's long time friend Alison, and next to her, Kitty and Piotr. Kitty looked as if she'd been carved from stone, and Piotr had one hand on her shoulder, though if it was meant to comfort or to reassure himself that she was still there was in question. Next to them stood Magnus' own daughter, Wanda, and her friend Lasher. Behind them all, lurking on the fringes, Jean Grey's exact duplicate, Madelyne, shuffled nervously, seeming uncertain of her place there. And beside him, where he didn't quite have to look, unless he wanted to, were Rogue, Jean-Luc and Irinee'.  
  
He risked a sidelong glance at Rogue and was instantly sorry. The ashen features of her face, twisted by sorrow as they were, sent a bolt of pain through his heart. They had all known this wouldn't be easy. Perhaps it was best to simply get it over with quickly. Turning his attention back to the group before him, he cleared his throat and began, deep voice resonating through the misty air.  
  
"We gather here today to bid goodbye to Remy Etienne LeBeau; beloved husband, devoted father, revered teammate. Though he is no longer with us…"  
  
Magnus' words faded into nothingness for Rogue. It was silent where she was, utterly and completely silent and lonely. Pale hand resting on each of her children's shoulders, she touched them only to touch reality itself. They were her only link to the world now, the only thing that kept her from retreating entirely. Soon enough, she would have to come out of this comfortable, numb place inside, and face the fact that Remy was really gone. Soon enough, their grief would abate a little, this shell-shocked feeling would pass, and they would need her to be strong and guide them through their lives. She wondered, in some distant corner of her mind, if she would ever be ready for that day. It seemed impossible now, without him.   
  
Dull green eyes swept over the landscape in the distance, lingering where the ground was lost to the white mists of early morning fog. She felt as lost as the large, dark shapes that loomed mysteriously beyond the fog, barely visible to her eye, indecipherable in purpose. Gradually, she became aware that it was silent, that everyone was looking at her expectantly, and she wondered for an instant how long she had been standing there in a daze. Then she turned, laying the white rose in her hands atop the tombstone and smoothing its leaves with her black-gloved fingers. She paused, staring at her hands. Gloves. It had been a long time since she'd worn them, yet now she slipped back into wearing them with the ease of a lifetime spent wearing such things. It seemed appropriate somehow, rightly symbolic. Because of him, she had learned to control her power. For him, she had removed her gloves forever. Bare hands that had caressed him with love would never touch another in that way. Now that he was gone, the gloves returned to her hands, and there they would remain, figuratively, if not literally. She would not dare to love like that again. She could not.  
  
She pressed the black suede of her fingertips against her lips, and then brushed her fingers against the polished stone, lingering there for a long moment. His body was not here, but it was here that she would say her goodbyes, nevertheless.   
  
"Goodbye, mah love," she whispered, black clad form atop the small hill in striking contrast to the white mist all around, fingers resting atop the headstone, eyes closed, head bowed, the perfect picture of grief and loss to all who bore witness. Then she turned and pushed her way from the graveyard, never looking backward once.  
  
Jean-Luc and Irinee' stepped forward next as their mother disappeared into the fog, each bending to deposit a small bouquet of light colored flowers before the headstone. Then they both stood as if lost, tears trailing down their tiny, solemn faces, until Magnus finally stepped forward and put a hand on each of their shoulders, steering them back toward the mansion.  
  
And so it went, each team member stepping forward to pay their final respects, until at last, the row of graves stood empty, silent once again.  
  
*           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *  
  
"So what'll you do now, darlin'?" Logan asked, crouching down on the front porch, cheroot in hand.  
  
Jean shrugged lightly, thinking as she stared out over the mansion grounds. "I don't know exactly. I just know I need to be on my own for a while."  
  
"Big scary world out there," he offered with a slight smirk.  
  
"I know." She smiled faintly, turning her head to look at him at last. "I'll be all right though. I learned from some of the best."  
  
He nodded, understanding what she left unspoken far more than she could realize. The merging of her persona's had left her more stable than she had ever been at the peak of her power… but she was a creature out of time, out of place, risen from death twice over, immortal in every sense of the word, more powerful than any other known mutant in existence. That was a pretty large thing to comprehend, much less to live with. She couldn't get a grip on it while sharing her life with mere mortals, while pretending to be a mere mortal. She belonged among the stars just as he belonged among the wilds, and the time that either of them spent with others was time consciously given up, time freely donated to the world and those who could benefit from it. They understood each other that way. They always had.  
  
"If yer sure," he added. "You know yer always welcome here."  
  
"I know." Again she smiled faintly, and then the expression crumbled, leaving her face bare as a little girl's suddenly. "You could come with me," softly spoken, barely above a whisper, more of a wish than an actual question.  
  
For a moment, he actually considered it. Hadn't he just thought about how similar they were, after all? But for all that their personalities and the generalities of their lives were similar, the particulars of their individual lives varied greatly. Him trying to soar the stars with her would be like a fish trying to swim through dirt. Sadly, he shook his head. "No, darlin'. Just wouldn't be right. I'd hold ya back, get in yer way. And 'sides, I…" his voice trailed off, head turning in the direction of the mansion, looking slightly uncomfortable.  
  
It was her turn to nod in silence, eyes reluctantly pulling from him, looking back to landscape before her. She didn't belong here, or with Magnus' group, that was true. She didn't know where she belonged, really, and that was what she needed to figure out for herself. But going alone was a scary prospect, no matter how much she convinced herself that it was necessary. Perhaps if it weren't for Ororo, she could have convinced him to come with her, regardless of his own feelings of unworthiness. Perhaps, in time, he would have come to know that she considered him her equal in all things, and that together nothing would be beyond their grasp. But Ororo did exist, and Logan did love her, and Jean was still too new at all this to know if she was too eagerly trying to fill the void Scott had left behind.  
  
He wondered what she was thinking. She had been so silent since her return from the grave, pensive, nothing like the Jean of old. He would have done almost anything to see her devilish grin, to hear her laughter, even to feel the sting of her anger. Instead there was this veil of silence between them as there had never been before, and in its wake trailed the name Ororo. And he supposed that was the way it had to be.  
  
"Very well." The air around him suddenly warmed, glowing a bright yellow, and he looked up to see Jean hovering just above the porch railing, a serene smile on her lovely face. "Tell the others I said goodbye, and I'll return when I can."  
  
"Just like that?" he asked, and he felt his heart grow heavy in his chest, filling with sadness. How many times had he said goodbye to her? How many more times would he have to?  
  
"I can't bear to say goodbye to them all. If I did, I might not have the courage to leave," she admitted softly.  
  
He nodded, again understanding her all too well.  
  
She cocked her head to the side then, broad smile spreading over her features and lighting up her eyes. "You know, you never did check to see if I was real this time."   
  
And there it was, just beneath the surface as it had always been; the brightness of her inner fire, a passion and temper to match the hue of her vibrant red hair. Lips he had thought he'd never see again smirked at him bemusedly, and he could not help but smirk back.  
  
It had been during Inferno, and the first time he'd seen her since she'd died on the moon. He had wanted to make sure she was real and couldn't think of any way more fun than dipping her backward in one hell of a kiss. Only Jean could take his breath away like that, and that kiss had been worth every bruise that Cyclops and Angel had heaped on him afterward.   
  
He flicked the ash from his cigar and shook his head. "Nope, not this time darlin'. Some things, you gotta take on faith." He winked then, and she smiled back.   
  
The next time he blinked, she was a small yellow dot against the heavens.  
  
  



	21. TRG: Epilogue

EPILOGUE  
  
"So what will you do now, Madelyne?" Magnus asked as they prepared to take their leave of the mansion. The rest of the two teams were saying their goodbyes some distance away, and he glanced in that direction as he awaited her answer.  
  
"I don't know, exactly," she answered with a light shrug that did not echo how she felt. "I feel like maybe I should be on my own for a while."  
  
"This world is a scary place for a lone mutant these days," he replied with just a touch of concern.  
  
Green eyes skittered away from his, not wanting to meet the intensity there. "I know. I'll survive though. I always do, somehow."  
  
"If you are sure." He nodded, adding, "You know you are always welcome among us."  
  
She'd thought she'd been prepared for this moment, but she hadn't suspected for a second that Magnus might offer her the very thing she wanted. She'd been completely prepared to gracefully go on her own as if it were her own idea all along. Her eyes widened with surprise now as he spoke, snapping back to him questioningly. Did he toy with her? Was he testing her? Had the Master of Magnetism discovered a latent sense of humor? Surely not. She remained silent, considering for a few heartbeats more.  
  
"If you're sure. A reincarnated telepath can be a scary thing these days." Her eyes observed his reaction to her words carefully, watching for the slightest hint of uncertainty.  
  
"Well, it just so happens that I have an opening on my team," he said, bordering on being grandiose, so much so that Madelyne's eyes widened even further. He wasn't joking, but he was speaking with something bordering on humor.  
  
"Well, it just so happens that I have an opening in my schedule…" she chuckled, "for the next fifty to sixty years or so."  
  
"Excellent. I will see you back at the complex, then." With a nod and the faintest of smiles, he moved past her. In his wake, he left Madelyne Pryor with an expression that had frightened many an enemy in her time: a Cheshire cat grin.  
  
*           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *  
  
"Father?"  
  
Wanda's voice interrupted his thoughts as he made his way back toward the two teams, and he paused, looking down at her expectantly. Odd, she seemed… almost nervous.  
  
"Yes Wanda?"  
  
"I was… ah… I was wondering if… that is, well. I just wanted to say goodbye," she finished abruptly with a small shrug, as if she had thought the better of her intended statement, starting to move past him already.  
  
He turned, blue-grey eyes following her curiously, lovingly, almost bemusedly. She had called him Father.  
  
"Wanda?"  
  
She turned as if she had been spun about on a string.  
  
"I thought… that is, I was wondering… would you like to come out and visit us again sometime soon?"  
  
She stood, staring at him suspiciously for a few long moments, then, slowly, ever so slowly, her face creased with the smallest of smiles. "I'd like that. Sometime."  
  
"The invitation is always open." He gave her a rare smile of his own return, holding her gaze until at last she nodded, turned and walked away.  
  
*           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *  
  
Still smiling, Magnus approached the group. Everyone seemed to be there and be ready. In the orange light of the late evening, he could make out Bobby and Lorna sitting on the mansion lawn, kissing like high-school sweethearts, and he supposed they were, at that. He was glad they had finally found the love between them; it would only serve to strengthen the team. And with the mainstay couple of the team now sundered by Remy's death, they could use all the love they could get.   
  
His expression darkened slightly as his eyes moved toward Rogue, sitting on the ground, quietly waiting, barely aware of anything around her. Irinee' and Jean-Luc sat to either side of her, looking just as pensive. Ah, endings and beginnings, ending and beginnings, again and again, time after time, Yin and Yang, the balance of things. It would take time for her wounds to heal, and Magnus meant to see to it personally that she and her children got the care they needed. They would be all the stronger for the loss of father and husband someday, but right now it was too fresh, too raw.  
  
Leaning down, he stretched out his hand to help her rise, blue-gray eyes meeting hers with sincere, warm intent.  
  
"Let's go home."  
  
*           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *  
  
Kitty stood beneath the darkening sky outside the mansion, watching Magnus and his team depart upon the very air itself. When at last they were but distant silhouettes on the horizon, she slung her shoulder pack backward, letting the weight pull her body straight, and began moving with slow, determined steps down the path toward the open countryside. She didn't know what lay ahead for her, but she knew that she couldn't find it here among the ghosts and graves of the many dead. Piotr would be devastated when he discovered her missing, even more so when he found the note she had left. Her heart ached for the pain she would cause him by doing this, but she hoped, somehow, that he would find a way to understand why she had to leave. Maybe someday he would even forgive her for it.  
  
Maybe someday, she would forgive herself.  
  
*           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *  
  
Rogue remembered the last time she had sailed through the sky above post-apocalyptic New York… then, the two children at her side had been but tiny sparks of life in her belly, Remy had been at her side, and she had been filled with hope for a new life, a new world. Now, as she stared down at the ruined buildings beneath her, fully six years later, she was filled with a sense of sadness she couldn't have imagined back then.  
  
Reluctantly, she pulled her eyes from the torn landscape below, looking to the skies ahead. The sun was just sinking below the horizon, the last fiery tip of its hemisphere disappearing behind the mountains, taking with it all the golden light of day. The moon hid its face from the earth, and not even the stars seemed to have the will to shine this night, leaving the sky a mask of impenetrable black velvet. A perfect echo of her mood, she thought, the complete opposite of what she had felt the last time she'd been here. If there was hope out there now, she couldn't see it.  
  
She'd spent the last few days since Remy's death in an emotional haze. It hadn't seemed real, as if she were living out someone else's nightmare, saying and doing all the right things. Going through the motions, waiting for someone to drop the curtain on her excellent performance, to wake up sweating and shaking cold from this horrible dream and roll over, pressing herself against his warm, breathing, loving body. She would tell him about her nightmare in the morning and they would reaffirm their love, grateful that they still had so many years of life ahead of them. She could accept the Academy Award for her excellence in her dream role and then she could move on with her happy life. Except that it wasn't ending, and the Academy wasn't calling. The funeral today had been the last nail in the coffin, literally. She had said her goodbyes because she'd been expected to, but slowly, little by little, she was realizing that she'd also said them because she needed to. The denial was ending, and somehow, that only intensified the pain. At least now it seemed more real.  
  
Irinee' shifted her weight, pressing against Rogue's side insistently. Out of instinct, she glanced down and patted her daughter reassuringly, and gazing into wide, young, green eyes, she was suddenly struck by the thought that perhaps she'd been looking for hope in the wrong place. For as surely as she'd thought six years ago, she thought now that if there were any hope for the world, it was in the future of these two children. What was her own grief compared to that?   
  
Somehow, in the torrent of emotions that followed Remy's death, she'd lost sight of the very reason he had died. He had sacrificed himself so that she and their children might live on, and the reason had been twofold; firstly, they were his children and he had vowed upon their inception that he would die to protect them, but secondly, because he had believed that the world needed them to help rebuild itself. Magnus had tried to remind her of that when she'd been drunk with the power of the Phoenix, but she'd been too overwhelmed by her loss to truly realize the value of what he was saying.  
  
The world needed these children, and thus, it needed her. Irinee' and Jean-Luc didn't just need someone to raise them… anyone could do that, though how well might be in question. No, what they needed was someone to prepare them for the world, to perhaps pave their way into it. Her mind explored the idea, latching onto it like a drowning man grasping for purchase. It wasn't exactly hope, but it did give her a sense of purpose. It didn't warm her, or give her new life, but it did give her a reason to keep breathing, and perhaps a way to forget her grief. It would get her through until tomorrow. That was enough. For now.  
  
"I promise, I will not fail", she whispered to herself.  
  
She put her arms around her two children and hugged them close to her, taking refuge in their closeness, comfort in their warmth. And ahead, in the darkness, a single star peeked through the curtain of night.  
  
FINIS  
  



End file.
